


Into My Arms

by BattyBollom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholic Dean, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bi Dean, Cas and Dean just need some love, Cas doesn't know how to be loved, Cas is married, Dean and Cas have a lot to work out, Dean doesn't know how to love properly, Dean is scared of becoming domesticated, Feels, Gay Bashing, Gets kind of graphic later on, Homophobia, Licking, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of past child abuse, Next Door Neighbours, Non-Supernatural AU, Oral Sex, Past Drug Use, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Rimming, Sam and Dean are close brothers, Sam and Jessica are getting married, Sam worries about his brother, Slow Build, gay cas, human cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 75,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattyBollom/pseuds/BattyBollom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has been wandering about his entire life. There's a part of him that never wants to quit the lifestyle, but he knows he can't keep going forever. In his 34th year, he finally decides to settle down, and finds a house in the one place he swore he'd never go back to: Lawrence Kansas.<br/>There's a lot to be done, but if it's one thing Dean likes, it's a challenge. He pours himself into renovating the ancient Victorian home, using it to ignore the pain of losing Lisa and Ben. He's tired of being the fuck-up in the family, and wants to get his life in order. He wants to be normal, for once. He wants the picket fence and the dog and the wife, which is why, when he meets James Novak, it shakes him to the core, despite all his efforts. What is it about the blue-eyed man that makes Dean lie awake at night?<br/>James Castiel Novak has never quite felt all right in his own skin. Coming from a religious family, he knew his duty, and he stuck to it like a good boy. He married young, had a child, and repressed the dark secret deep inside him for years and years. He wanted to love Amelia, wanted to be normal, but when Dean Winchester moved in next door he couldn't deny the truth he'd been trying to escape for years: he's gay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Olly Olly Oxen Free

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've never written a Supernatural fic before, but this thing has been kicking around in my head for about a year now, and I've decided to try to get it out on paper. I hope it's not confusing, but at first Cas is going to be called James Novak, and it isn't until he and Dean start to become friends and know about one another that he becomes "Cas", I'll try to explain it IN the actual story, I just wanted to get that out there right now. He IS Castiel, I swear, he's just called James at first.  
> Anyway, just warning you, but this fic is going to have gay bashing and homophobia, as well as depictions of child abuse and mental abuse. It might get pretty damn graphic, so if that's going to be a problem, please be aware. Also, this is a slow building fic where Dean and Cas become friends first, lovers second. Both Cas and Dean are going to have their turn doing the fucking, and through it all they'll have to work through a lot of issues, hopefully ending up together in the final chapter.  
> Happy Reading!!

Life in Kansas wasn’t all that exciting for Dean Winchester, but in many ways that suited him just fine. In his youth he’d been a rambling man, travelling from place to place, leaving behind broken hearts and broken heads as he made his fortune. Now here he was, turning 34, and buying a home in the place he’d sworn never to return to: Lawrence, Kansas.

  
It was a hot summer afternoon as Dean sped down the main road in his ’67 Chevy Impala, blaring CCR from the open windows. He had to confess he derived a certain amount of enjoyment from causing heads to snap around as his car passed them by. There was still a fragment of the rebellious teen trapped inside the grown man’s body, and would probably be there until the day he died.  


Some of the boxes he had piled in the back of his precious baby shifted around as he turned a corner and pulled into the old white Victorian house that was practically falling apart at the edges. The real estate agent had been almost hesitant to show him the home, saying no one had lived in the house for nearly fifty years. Apparently there had been a violent murder in the building, and now some of the more superstitious inhabitants of Lawrence thought it was haunted. Dean had to laugh at that, though. Ghosts. There was nothing more stupid than believing in ghosts ‘n’ shit.  


Dean got out of his car with a bit of a groan. Already his Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt was sticking to his back in the near oppressive heat, but he couldn’t put off moving any longer. It was going to be a slow process, moving, but Dean was determined to get it done. He had all summer to fix the place up enough to be habitable before winter hit, and that was plenty of time. In all honesty, the young man was excited at the prospect of such a huge project. The house was ancient, nearly as old as the town itself, and yet it had been allowed to crumble and decay until it was no more than a shadow of what it used to be. He’d only had a quick walk-around before he had decided on buying the place, but just from that he knew he had his work cut out for him. Sammy, Dean’s little brother, had accused him of using it as an excuse to avoid the gaping hole that was his love life, but Dean had waved him off with a cursory eye roll and light punch to the shoulder.  


Upon the first wave of boxes being moved into the home, Dean nearly broke through one of the steps on the front porch, causing him to nearly drop what he was carrying.  


“JESUS! FUCK!!” Dean shouted, leaping back from the sagging step, his heart beating wildly.  


“Are you all right, neighbour?” Called a gravelly voice, and when Dean looked up he spotted a scruffy looking guy standing on his next-door neighbour’s lawn staring at him. The man looked to be a few years older than Dean with a thick mop of unruly black hair atop his head and a set of deep, piercing blue eyes. He was dressed haphazardly in a white button-up, cheap black nylon trousers, and a tie that seemed to be on backwards. For a moment Dean wondered if he was a homeless man squatting in the neighbourhood, but he was quickly relieved of that suspicion, for a beautiful woman appeared a few seconds later, purse slung over her arm.  


“Is everything okay, dear?” She called out, lifting a hand to her eyes and looking at the man.  


“That is what I am doing my best to ascertain.” The man answered her, giving the woman a tight smile before turning back to Dean.  


Dean raised his hand and gave them both a dazzling grin. “Yeah, I’m all right. I just got startled by the stairs.” He set the box down carefully and ambled over to where the curious man was standing. “Hi, I’m Dean Winchester. I just moved, err, am in the process of moving.” He chuckled and held his hand out.  


“James Novak.” James Novak replied a little stiffly, taking Dean’s hand. “Do you need assistance in your endeavours? It is extremely warm outside this afternoon.”  


Dean shook the oddly cool hand and made a face. “Naah, my little brother’s going to be showing up a little later to help me schlep my crap. Thanks, though. That’s awfully neighbourly of you.” He winked and nodded to the woman still standing somewhat behind James Novak, a curious look on her fine features. He held a hand up in greeting to her and called out. “Hi, I’m Dean!”  


“Amelia Novak, Jimmy’s wife.” the woman replied smoothly, coming to stand behind James and smiling pleasantly at Dean. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean. Jimmy and I were just saying how nice it was to have someone finally take over the old house! You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.”  


Dean nodded, smiling good-naturedly, practically oozing charm. “I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be nice to have something to do.”  


After a few more minutes of chewing the fat with his new neighbours, Dean got back to work, but not before Amelia Novak made him promise to enlist their help if he needed it. All through the conversation Dean had found his mind wandering to the man, to James Novak, for he was such a strange individual. His wife was put together and had an almost effortless quality of beauty to her, whereas her husband seemed a little strained, almost as though he’d recently gone through some sort of trauma. He’d stayed quiet during the exchange, allowing Amelia to address Dean. As soon as the woman had come over, in fact, James Novak had clammed up, staring at the ground as though trying hard to imagine himself somewhere else. Not that it was any of Dean’s business, though. He did not intend to get buddy-buddy with the Novaks; that was far too domestic for Dean Winchester.  


***  


"Sammy!” Dean cried out as his brother's hybrid car pulled into the driveway next to Dean's Impala. The freckled man waved the beer he was holding at his brother and skipped down the stairs to see him out of the car.  


Sam Winchester was a tall, thin man with a prominent nose set in the middle of a long, narrow face framed by straight brown hair that nearly hit his shoulders. He smiled at his slightly shorter brother and held his hand out. "Dean, what the hell have you got here?" He laughed, cocking his head to one side, hazel eyes narrowing with laughter.  


"Fuck off, Sammy." Dean joked, grabbing the proffered hand and pumping it enthusiastically. "C'mon, I'll grab you a beer and we can talk inside for a little while. I'll give you the grand tour." He had to admit that Sam looked good. California had suited him, for he was tanned and smiling. He looked happier than Dean had seen him in a good while, and it made Dean’s heart lighten a little. Sammy deserved happiness.  


The two brothers ambled inside after a quick pit stop at a little ice chest filled with beer bottles sitting right outside the front door. After Sam had a beverage safely ensconced in his huge mit, they fell into step with one another. Dean began showing his brother the house, pointing out all the original wood working and fixtures that were still in place, and telling his little brother all about his plans to restore as much as he could of the old fixtures and features, using reclaimed products for the rest. Sam nodded and approved quietly, a half smile on his angular face as he watched his older brother enthusiastically jabbing at random bits of the house. They entered in a wide room that looked like it had been a dining room at one point, though now the empty wooden floors were scuffed and dinged up. The wood trimming was dark - almost black with an aged patina of dirt and dust; all around them the old floral wallpaper was peeling off the walls in great chunks, curling and yellowing with age. Even the windows had a thin film of grime covering them, blocking the late afternoon sun.  


"What do you think?" Dean asked, stuffing one hand in the pocket of his low-slung, work-worn jeans.  


"It's... nice." Came the careful answer.  


"Look, ass-chin, either tell me what you really feel or be prepared to face the consequences." Dean narrowed his eyes and stared his younger brother down in a mock-menacing manner.  


Sam's eyebrows shot up and he blinked. "Are you... could you be referring to my cleft chin??" He laughed, rubbing it thoughtfully. "Because I hate to break it to you, Dean, but you got one too."  


"Shut up. Bitch."  


"Jerk."  


The two brothers stared at one another for a moment before bursting out in laughter. They stood there smiling and laughing for a good four minutes before quieting down and looking about in silence.  


"It's... going to be a lot of work." Sam said after a little while, looking sidelong at his brother.  


"I know."  


They were silent again for a few minutes before Dean let out a long sigh and took another swig of his beer.  


"You're finally settling down. It's kind of fucking weird."  


"I know. I've got neighbours and everything!" Dean gave his brother a lopsided grin and shrugged. "I met them yesterday. Jimmy Novak and his wife, uh, Amelia? Very all-American apple pie sort."  


"Weird.” Sammy repeated, lifting his own beverage to his lips.  


"Yeah." Echoed Dean.  


“...yeah."  


"Come on, then, let's get to movin' shit." Dean nodded his head toward the outside and walked away.  


Sam reached the car before Dean, and began grabbing up some stuff, noting the lack of boxes and furniture. “Where’s all your stuff, Dean?” He poked his head in the car and looked about. “There’s only clothes and movies and a laptop and some lamps.”  


Dean groaned and popped the trunk, pulling out half of a huge, thin box. “What stuff?” He looked at his younger brother quizzically, his brow furrowed. “Dude, I’ve been on the road for years. The longest I’ve stayed in one place was a month, and that was because the sex was great. This is pretty much it.”  


There was a bit of a silence before Sam put the box he was holding down and helped Dean with the other one. “So…. All you have is some clothes, games, a… big TV, a laptop, movies, and two lamps?” Sam watched his brother carefully.  


“Well, I mean…. There are some other boxes of shit in storage right now. You know, my guns and some old photos, but I’m not moving any of that in until I get it somewhat liveable. That’s what you’re here for. Jess said that you’re an ace at painting rooms.” Dean nodded to his brother to veer right a little, then gave directions, since Sammy was the one walking backwards. They didn’t talk about Dean’s stuff again, instead they began discussing plans for the house. The contents of the car were emptied into an attic, the TV set up, and the gaming systems prepped in two hours. By that time it was dinner, so they took a break, ordering in pizza and playing Mortal Kombat until the early hours.  


***  


"Are you all moved in?" Amelia Novak smiled from her seat on the Novak's front porch, a cup of fragrant coffee in her hands.  


Dean blinked blearily, halfway stooped to pick up the morning paper some idiot kid had hurled headlong at his house. "Uh... kind of." He retrieved the object and straightened up, pulling his crimson robe about himself to ward off the cool morning air. "Got enough in to make living comfortable while I do the renovating."  


"Oh no!" Amelia gasped, and, at a frown from her neighbour, elaborated. "I hope you aren't planning on anything drastic!!" She exclaimed, shuffling over to the corner of her lawn nearest Dean. "I mean, it's such a beautiful old relic... it would be a shame to put all modern trappings on the inside."  


"Oh." Dean shook his head and tucked the paper under his elbow. "No, no," he assured her, running a hand through his tousled hair. "No, I'm not... updating it. I'm trying to preserve as much of its original interior as possible. A lot of it is pretty run-down."  


"Well, if you ever need any help, my Jimmy is great with painting! He was the one who did all the work on Claire's nursery!" She sighed and cupped her warm mug. "Ah, it's so hard to believe how long ago that was." Amelia's expression became wistful as she stared into the distance. "Claire is our daughter, you see. She's turning 13 this year... it's amazing how quickly time passes. Do you have any children?"  


"Yeah, I... no, no I don't." Dean's brows drew together as his face darkened for a moment. "I... my ex had a son. It's about the closest I've gotten to a kid." He explained, wincing at the pity that flooded Amelia's face.  


"Oh! You poor man! That must be hard for you." She exclaimed, reaching forward and squeezing his shoulder.  


Dean's smile was tight as he clutched the paper close to him. "Yeah, he's a great kid." He bit his tongue as she clucked sympathetically. All Dean needed was an excuse to extricate himself from the situation - an excuse that came after ten minutes of wading through the flood of commiseration that spewed forth from Amelia's lips. The excuse was the simultaneous appearance of James Novak and Sam.  


James Novak stepped down from his porch, while Sam, who was an early riser and often enjoyed getting in a jog at dawn, ambled over, huffing and puffing from the exertion.  


"That must be your brother." Amelia sang out, nodding toward Sam.  


Dean turned around and waved at his brother, giving him the secret signal (a wild, desperate look in the depths of his glass green eyes) to get the FUCK over and save him. "Hey, Sammy! This is my neighbour Amelia Novak. Amelia, this is my little brother Sam."  


Sam, who by this time had reached Dean, held out his hand and gave the woman a winning smile. "Nice to meet you!" His gaze briefly met hers before drifting off to the scruffy looking man behind her.  


"Oh! Sam, this is James Novak." Dean offered, gesturing to James Novak. "This is my little brother Sammy."  


"Ah, the one who was coming to help you move in." James Novak murmured, his voice thick with sleep.  


"Hi," Sam reached forward and pumped James’s hand. "Please don't call me Sammy, though. Dean's a lost cause at this point...” He shot his brother an almost venomous look before turning back to James Novak and his wife.  


"I won't." Replied the dark haired man seriously, his baby blue eyes shifting over to where Dean was standing barefooted on the sidewalk, a light dusting of morning stubble covering his chin and a tired, if somewhat polite smile on his thick lips. His sturdy, muscular legs protruded from the end of the crimson silk robe that covered most of his compact, well-defined, and obviously naked body. Despite the early hour, Dean Winchester was positively oozing sex. "Are you moved in?" James Novak asked gruffly, quickly shifting his stare to the grass beneath his socked feet.  


"Mostly, yeah. I don’t have a whole lot more, but I’m waiting until I have the place renovated to move in the rest of my shit." At the utterance of the venial profanity, Amelia Novak's eyes narrowed a little, her smile tightening ever so lightly. She looked as though she wanted to rebuke Dean for his language, but said nothing.  


"I see. Remodelling can be strenuous." James Novak stated mechanically, making sure not to look at Dean any more than he could help it.  


"Uh... yeah...” Dean shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out a way he could get himself out of his situation. Sam came to his rescue once more, however, stepping in and reminding Dean that they were going to go get some breakfast before starting work, because he was only in Kansas for a very short time. With that, the two families broke apart, the Novaks heading to their house, and the Winchesters to theirs.  


"Wow." Sam exclaimed once the solid wood door had clicked shut behind them.  


"Yeah, I know. She gives me the heebie jeebies." Dean groused.  


"Heebie jeebies?!" Laughter broke out from Sam's throat as he stared at his older brother incredulously. "What age are you FROM?!"  


"Shut it!" Dean flipped Sam off before shuffling over to a black duffle he'd dumped on the steps; it was filled with various bits of clothing. From there Dean snatched a new pair of jeans, another t-shirt, and some fresh pants. "Here, let me get ready. There should be hot water in the bathroom.... They were supposed to hook it up yesterday morning, so fingers crossed."  


There was hot water in the bath, but not a whole lot of it. And there was no shower - something Dean immediately determined to change.  


Twenty minutes after that the older Winchester brother appeared in a cloud of steam, hair and skin damp. "Fuuuuuuuuuck yes." He groaned, scratching at his crotch.  


Sam rolled his eyes and threw the Impala keys at him.  


"Careful! I don't want you to lose my Baby's keys!" Dean admonished, catching the keys and clutching them to his chest.  


Again, Sam rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Dean, let's get going. I'm starved."  


The diner was packed, but the brothers managed to find themselves a quiet little niche in the back of the building. They ordered their food - Dean got an egg, bacon, and cheese biscuit, much to Sam's disgust. Sam, himself, got a salad and a fruit and veggie smoothie (much to Dean's horror), and settled down.  


They talked about their lives; Sam related to Dean how well his fiancée Jessica was doing, how well his practice was going. Dean, for his part, was proud of his little brother. Sam Winchester had known what he wanted to do ever since he was a little boy: he'd wanted to be a lawyer. Sam worked as a defence lawyer in a small law firm in California, and was working toward having his own company. He'd recently graduated from Harvard University with exceptional marks, and immediately was recruited. There was nothing in Dean's life that gave him more pride than the success of his baby brother. Dean hadn't gone to any school of higher learning, in fact he'd never finished high school. He'd gotten his GED eventually, but that was it.  


"So what about you, Dean?" Sam asked, pushing away his bowl and sighing. "Have you spoken to Lisa lately?"  


Dean shook his head. "Ben tried calling me a few months ago, but Lisa made him hang up."  


"Oh. Sorry."  


Dean shrugged and sipped his coffee. "It's fine. It ain't like he's my real kid."  


Sam didn't have an answer for that. He'd seen how happy Dean was with Lisa and her son Ben.  


"Hey, stop giving me that look. I'm good now, Sam. I'm really... I'm okay. I've got the house to fix up, I got enough cash to open up an auto body shop, and Bobby's going to keep me on as a part time mechanic in Topeka." Dean dug his wallet out and put a few bills on the table, leaving a generous tip for their pretty waitress.  


They drove home in Dean's precious car, and began working on the house. They began in the kitchen, stripping hideous floral wallpaper that dated back to the 1960s. Dean blasted classic rock from an old CD/Cassette player, ignoring Sam's pert remarks about being stuck back in the 90s. They worked through the morning and well into the afternoon before they took a break. When it got too hot to work, the two brothers sat on the front lawn drinking and laughing at old anecdotes and stories for a few hours before getting back to work. There was a lot to be done, but they attacked each task with enthusiasm, grinning and elbowing one another throughout the day.  


They spent four days in a similar fashion, waking up early, eating, working until about two, then taking a break until the heat died down before going back at it. They managed to get the kitchen cleared out, most of the old cabinets torn out and the appliances taken away before they started painting. Dean had picked out a warm grey colour, accenting it with white trim. His plans were to have black marble countertops and black tiles, whereas the cupboards would be white with black doors. He had it all planned out. Initially he’d wanted a warm, buttery yellow colour for the kitchen, until he remembered that had been the colour of his mother’s kitchen, and the thought had been too painful.  


Sammy had approved of the scheme, saying with some surprise, that Dean had picked out a really good scheme and that it would be a nice kitchen. To which, of course, Dean had replied with an eye roll and the bird. In all honesty, Dean had fallen in love with the kitchen. He enjoyed cooking and was fairly good at it, so the wide, well lit space was an immediate attraction for him. If he was going to live here, he wanted his house to be perfect, and perfection started with the kitchen (ending, of course, in his bedroom). None of this was relayed to Sam, however, so they worked in peace without Sam cracking jokes at his brother’s apparent domestication.  


It wasn’t until the fifth day that they realised that they needed to re-shingle the roof. They were sitting outside enjoying a mid-morning break when a huge piece of shingle broke off and hit the back of Sammy’s head. Upon further inspection, where Dean climbed up on the roof and found the shingles to be so bad that he could barely find a steady foothold, the brothers realised it needed to be completely redone. They argued about getting it done professionally, Sam wanted to call some people to have them do it, saying he would only be in Kansas for three more days, and did Dean really want to use his time on the roof instead of in the house? Dean countered with wanting to get it done right, not knowing any contractors in the area, and that he wanted to do as much of the house as he could.  


They ended up re-shingling the roof.  


The second day on the roof, seven days into Sam’s stay, the younger Winchester brother noticed something. He and Dean were on the mostly flat porch roof, taking a break in the hot sun, both shirtless and sweating. Dean sat beside him, drinking a cold bottle of water like a man dying of thirst, ignoring the bugs lazily hovering in the air. Sam didn’t see it at first, and it was only when the curtain moved that he really realised what it was. Sitting behind, from what Sam could see, a desk was James Novak. He had a pen in his hand and was watching them, or, more accurately, Dean with a slightly glazed look in his eyes. Sam’s brow furrowed, and he was about to point it out to his older brother, when James Novak saw him looking and got up, pulling the blinds down. Sam didn’t say anything to Dean, but kept his eye out for the rest of the day. James Novak didn’t appear again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! As this is my first Supernatural fic, I would love constructive criticism! I'm not confident in my abilities to render the rich characters the writers of Supernatural have created for our viewing pleasure.  
> And, just as an end note, if you want to really get into the story, I'm going to be naming the chapters after songs that inspired me throughout the fic, and I'll give the name of the musician and the full name of the song at the end if anyone wants to check them out. For instance, the name of the first chapter is Olly Olly Oxen Free, which is a song by Amanda Palmer, and I relate it so heavily to Dean and Cas. It just reminds me of how they're both trying to fool themselves with lives that they ought to want, but don't. Anyway, I really, really recommend the song.  
> Don't forget to leave a comment and kudos! <3


	2. Simple Man

“Jimmy, did you get dinner?”  


James Novak could hear his wife’s voice, shrill and harsh from their bedroom upstairs. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to look out the window at the two men working diligently on the roof next door. “No, Amelia. I’ll… go to get it now.” He let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. His mouth felt dry and full of cotton, his heart heavy in his chest. There was something weighing him down lately, something he couldn’t quite explain.  


“Hurry up, Dear, the Greens will be here, and I need that ham NOW so I can get it in the oven before two.”  


“Yes, dear.”  


James Novak pulled the curtain quietly aside, unable to hold himself back. Sam and Dean were laughing about something, and James Novak’s eyes strayed to the older brother without really meaning to. Dean was pretending to shoot himself in his head, his shoulder muscles flexing as his hand raised to his head, sweat dripping from his forehead as his perfectly sculpted lips curved in an infectious smile.  


James Novak shook himself and let the curtain fall back, his heart pounding in his chest. This was wrong. Wrong. He hurried down the stairs, grabbing the car keys and stuffing them in his pockets.  


***  


“Hey, Dean, how well do you know your neighbours?”  


Sam and Dean were lying on the lawn, their backs to the cool grass, their faces toward the overcast sky. It was Sam’s second to last day helping Dean. They’d gotten the roof finished, with no small effort on their parts, and with more than one near-death accident. Now that their time was drawing to a close, the brothers felt a sort of emptiness in their hearts, for they had not seen one another in almost two years, and it had been nice talking like the old days.  


“Uhh, not any more than you do. I know they have a 13 year old daughter named… Kate? Claire? And that they’ve been married for at least 13 years, and that the dude is a little weird, and the chick probably wears the pants in the family.” Dean cracked an eye open and looked over at his younger brother, his lips turning down in curiosity. “Why?”  


“No reason.” Sam answered, yawning. “Come on, don’t you think we should get inside and start on that big-ass floor in the dining room.”  


Dean groaned and rolled on his stomach, hauling himself off. “Ugh, fine.” Somewhere to their left Dean’s phone buzzed and he looked blearily up, feeling more than a little sluggish, for it was hot and muggy outside. “Sammy, grab my phone.” Sam complied, reaching on long arm out and grasping the mobile. He held it in front of his face, and Dean knew who it was just by the look on his little brother’s face. “Hey, give it to me.” He snapped, holding his hand out.  


Sam’s jaw twitched as he handed the phone to Dean and sat up.  


Dean slid his finger across the screen and answered, unable to look at the taller man. “Hey, dad, uh, it’s not a great time.” He paused, listening to the voice on the other end. “Yeah, no, I know, Sir. I know. No, it’s just… Sam is here right now, and we’re in the middle of renovating…. Yeah, no, no Sir, I know. No, I’ll…. Yeah, no, I’ll tell him. Yeah. Talk to you later.” Dean hung up the phone, his whole body tense.  


They sat in silence for a few seconds before Sam got to his feet, brushing his legs off. “I can’t believe you’re still talking to him after everything, Dean.” He said in a low voice, his hazel eyes narrowed angrily.  


“Hey, Sammy!” Dean began, but Sam had already turned on his heel and had begun walking toward the house. Dean sat on his lawn, staring after his brother and clutching the phone in his hand, feeling guilty.  


They didn’t talk about the phone call, nor about their father, in fact they both stayed mostly silent for the rest of the day. Dean could tell Sam was itching to talk to him about what had happened, but Sam knew that there was no way his older brother was going to talk to him about anything even close to feelings. That was just how Dean was. He shut down when things got personal, especially personal and family-related, even with his only brother. Or, perhaps, especially with his only brother.  


Both men, at different times throughout the day, felt as though they were being too stubborn and almost said something, but in the end nothing came of it. This was business as usual, something they both understood. The chink in their bond was never more apparent than when the subject of their father  


There were nights Dean couldn’t sleep, no matter what he tried. The housework had kept him exhausted enough to where his eyes were closed as soon as his head hit the mattress, but even the rigorous work and strenuous activities involved in renovating a house were not able to aid him that night. One AM found him sitting on his porch with a half full plastic cup of whiskey. He groaned and set the cup down, his head thudding into the two, solid hands waiting for it. "What the fuck am I doing?" He whispered to himself, tired green eyes closing as he rubbed his face.  


As he sat pondering the myriad of mistakes that had lead him to his seat on the porch in the early morning hours, he assumed that he was perfectly alone in his dejection.  


He was not.  


From his bedroom window, James Novak stood watching Dean as he pulled his red plaid shirt tighter around him to ward off the night breeze.  


James Novak stood there wondering why Dean Winchester had moved next door to him just when he was finally starting to pull himself together. Dean was like some sort of demon sent from hell to try his resolve. Still, despite what he told himself, James Novak wasn’t as strong as he thought, for he would have stayed watching the handsome young man until early morning’s light had his wife not opened her eyes.  


“Jimmy… what are you doing by the window?” She asked, yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes as she half sat up.  


“Nothing, Amelia.” James Novak answered, his voice low and gravelly.  


“Come to bed, then.”  


“Yes, Amelia.” Reluctantly, James Novak slipped in beside his wife and lay there, eyes open, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.  


The man he had been watching got up after a little while and sighed. He was blissfully unaware of his neighbour’s scrutiny, and therefore untroubled in so far as that went. Had he been aware he might have greeted James Novak a little differently when he saw him the next morning.  


When Dean awoke, he was still on edge about the phone call he’d received, but having spent his whole life pretending to be, if not happy, then satisfied, waved and smiled when he saw the curious man next door. “Heya.” He called out, waving the paper he held in his hand with a cheery motion.  


“Morning.” James Novak grunted, not looking Dean in the eye. “Where is your brother?” He held his own paper tightly to his chest, as though warding his heart from any accidents.  


“He’s off talking to Jess – that’s his fiancée – about the invitations.” Dean rolled his eyes and made a gun with his left hand, pretending to shoot himself. “Marriage, man, it seems way more complicated than it’s worth. I can’t imagine having to go through with that, but Sam loves the hell out of Jess, and I’m happy for him.”  


“Marriage is…. An important part of society, but… I’ll grant you it’s not for everyone.” James Novak answered, finally raising his dark blue eyes to Dean’s less than happy green ones. He frowned and opened his mouth to ask what had gotten Dean so upset when Sam came jogging into view.  


“Hey! Dean!” Sam gasped, panting a little and grinning broadly. He stopped next to Dean, doubling forward and grabbing his knees. The younger Winchester brother looked as though he’d run a marathon, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were bright with exertion. He nodded and waved breathlessly at James Novak before turning to his brother and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Hey, just got off the phone with Jess. I gotta talk to you.” He turned to James Novak and apologised for being rude. “This is just… really important, Mr Novak, sorry.”  


James Novak, who was shorter than Sam by several inches, looked up at the beaming youth and gave him a tight smile. “No, it’s quite all right. I ought to be getting inside. I think Amelia’s got breakfast ready.” He bade them both a good day and turned to his house, ambling reluctantly toward it.  


“What was so important that you had to run to get here, huh?” Dean propped a hand on his hip and arched an eyebrow, looking up at his younger brother.  


“Just got off the phone with Jess. We were talking about the wedding, and….” Sam nodded toward the house, no longer wheezing. “Well, you know how I came down here to help with your house?”  


“Yeah, I vaguely recall that.” Dean answered wryly, falling in step with Sam, his hands in his pockets, the paper pressed to his side by an arm.  


“Well, I sort of…. Came here for another reason, too.”  


“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… I sort of came here to ask if you would be my best man.”

Dean stopped short and turned to look at his brother, his eyes wide. “What?” He asked, completely flabbergasted.  


“Well, duh. Dude… don’t act so surprised. Who else was I going to ask? You’re my brother. There’s no one else I’d rather have up there.” Sam punched Dean’s shoulder awkwardly, clearly more than a little uncomfortable with the declaration of brotherly love. “Don’t… you want to be?”  


“What? No! I mean, yeah, of course I want to be. Of course I will be.” Dean’s mood broke, and suddenly the smile reached his eyes, and he was laughing.  


Sam began laughing, too, and they both resumed their course to the house. “Yeah, and just to make sure you won’t try to get out of it…. We’re going to have the wedding here in Lawrence.”

There was silence on Dean’s part, but he looked at his younger brother with amazement. Sam was going to get married here?? But…. He’d told Dean how set Jess was on having a beachside wedding. A lump was quickly beginning to grow in the older brother’s throat as he realised just how much Sammy was doing for him.  


Sam, who was getting more and more flustered, soldiered on, looking closely at his older, but shorter brother. “Yeah, and… I haven’t talked about this with Jess, I wanted to OK it with you first, but…. I was sort of wondering if we could have the wedding in your house. I mean, it’s a beautiful place, and it’s got a great yard, and that way I can come down again for a while and help with the reno some more. The wedding isn’t until next spring, so we’ve got time.”  


They had reached the house, then, and Dean had to stop. He turned to his brother and pulled him into a hug, standing on his tip toes to rest his chin on Sam’s shoulder. “Of course you can, man.” He rasped, blinking rapidly. “Of course. You didn’t even have to ask.” Dean pulled away and sniffed loudly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his work-worn jeans.  


They stood there in silence for a little while, just standing by the front door and staring into opposite directions as they both contemplated on what had just transpired.  


It was Dean who spoke first, breaking the quiet with a little cough. “Well, come on, then. We’ve got a lot to get done before you leave, especially if you want this place ready in time for the wedding. Are… you sure Jess won’t mind?” Dean pushed the door open, glancing sidelong at his brother.  


Sam shrugged and stepped inside. “I’m sure she will. She’s really easy going about stuff like that. And… honestly, I don’t really care. I want it here in Lawrence, and this house is going to be the perfect place. She’s going to have to be okay with it.”  


“You’re playing a dangerous game, little brother.” Dean chuckled to himself, chuffed that Sam wanted to have his wedding in the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is the name of a song called Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd, which is just such a great song, and it really reminds me of Dean.  
> Please leave comments/constructive criticism/kudos! I really hope you enjoy this chapter.


	3. La Cathédrale Engloutie

As it was Sammy’s last day in Lawrence, both he and Dean took it easier, neither brother speaking of the realisation that was hanging over both their heads: neither Dean nor Sam knew when, for sure, they’d be seeing one another again. A year was a long time, and a lot could happen between now and then; Dean didn’t exactly have a great track record for maintaining a permanent address.  


They drove around the town in Dean’s Impala, not really discussing anything of great importance, just enjoying the early afternoon sun. They had done a fair bit of work in the time that Sammy had been there, the most labour intensive projects downstairs now mostly taken care of. Major improvements were made to the kitchen; they removed the dated 70s wallpaper and the yellowing linoleum flooring in favour of heated tiles on the floor (Dean had told Sam he would paint the walls on his own), and from there they moved onto the roof. They were determined to get as much done as possible during Sam’s stay. The brothers had amazed themselves at how much they were able to accomplish in the short time, and silently congratulated themselves in their expedience.  


So busy had they been, so overwhelmed by the massive task of reshingling the roof, that yesterday’s phone call was thought to be forgotten. Or, in Dean’s case, hoped was forgotten. Sam, however, was not as quick to let it go. Unbeknownst to Dean, the younger of the Winchester brothers had been mulling over the events and, as they were sitting in what was quickly turning out to be Dean’s favourite diner (their hamburgers were generously piled with bacon, and they went easy with the lettuce. Not to mention the copious amounts of Sriracha added for him specifically by the waitress, who by then knew Dean on site and knew he liked things more than a little spicy), determined to bring it up.  


Sam looked up from his walnut and feta wedge salad, ignoring Dean’s heart-attack inducing meal, broached the subject again, this time with a little less vehemence than the previous day’s reaction. “So,” he began, pushing around a piece of dried cranberry, “what did he want you to tell me?”  


Dean stopped mid-chew and gave his brother a hard stare, his green eyes trying to decipher the motive behind Sam’s sudden query. “Nothing really,” he said through a mouthful of beef, pork, lettuce, and cheese. “Why?”  


“Dunno… just… was wondering.” Sam shrugged and set his fork down, looking his brother full in the eye. “Since he’s never seemed to give a shit about contacting me since I left.”  


“That’s not fair, Sam.” Began Dean, swallowing the thoroughly masticated food, readying himself for a fight that he wished would just disappear.  


“Oh really, Dean? I wasn’t the one who wanted to cut… He told me not to come back, not to talk to him if I left.”  


“That’s only because you never wanted anything to do with him or with me, Sam. You just up and left.” Dean’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips, as though he’d just said something he’d never meant to impart.  


The two men stared at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say.  


“I….” Sam began, his hand frozen on the table.  


“Forget it, Sammy. I know you’re busier ‘n’ all shit, and I don’t care. You do what you wanna do, you’ve always been good at that. What’s it matter as long as you’re happy?” Dean had meant to say it with some small amount of levity, but it ended up sounding flat and a little resentful.  


“Dean, you know I never wanted to cut you out of my life.” Sam said finally, his brows drawing together in pain. “I…. you’re my brother, Dean. We’re family.”  


“Yeah, that don’t mean nothin’ if you don’t fuckin’ contact your family for years. I left you alone, Sammy, because that’s what you wanted. My number’s been the same for five years.” Dean pushed the plate away from him, suddenly feeling sick. “I get… I get that you’re not happy with Dad and the choices he made, but he always did what he thought was best for us. And look at you, you turned out okay. I mean you’re a pansy-ass lawyer now, but… hell, Sam, you did good. Dad’s proud of you.”  


Sam snorted and pushed his own plate away, leaning back in his booth, the faux green leather crinkling a little as the weight on it shifted. “Fuck he is. He wanted me to carry on the family business. You were always the loyal one, the one who was interested in mechanics, the one who made him proud…” the words trailed off into silence as Sam looked at the sardonic visage on his brother’s countenance.  


“For such a smart-ass, you’re pretty fuckin’ dumb, Sammy.” Dean finally said, paying for their meals and getting up from his seat. “I’ll be in the car.” He said over his shoulder, waiving to their server with a smile and heading out the door.  


Once inside his Baby, Dean slumped forward over the wheel and took out his phone, staring at it as if debating what to do. His first instinct was to call Bobby Singer, the man who had been more like a father than his own biological parent had. Bobby, as crotchety as he was, always had time to listen to Dean whine. Sure, he’d probably tell him to grow a pair and stop pussyfooting around, but there would be sympathy behind the gruff exterior. Dean sighed and was just about to dial the familiar number, when his brother came out of the diner looking confused and contrite.  


“Hey.” Dean grunted as the car door opened and closed behind Sammy.  


“Hey.” Came the quiet reply.  


“Look –” they both said at the same time, but Sammy gestured to Dean to go first.  


“Look,” Dean repeated, obviously uncomfortable. “It’s not like I’m… thrilled with dad either, you know? I know he wasn’t father of the year, and he wasn’t around sometimes… but he loves us both, and whatever he did he thought it was for the best.”  


“Dean…. He pulled us out of school with no notice. We lived in a CAR for a year. The most permanent place we called home was a fucking motel in Laramie where we spent a miserable month waiting for him to come back from one of his ‘trips’. How was that ever in our best interest?” Sam demanded, unwilling to let the subject go just like that.  


“I ain’t saying he was perfect, Sammy. I’m just saying he loves us, and I’m not going to cut him out because of the past. He’s trying to be different. I can tell.” With that the subject was closed, for Dean started the car and began driving before Sammy had a chance to buckle himself in.  


***  


James Novak watched the ’67 Impala speed up the road, its engine purring and whirring toward its intended driveway. The brunette imagined he heard a sort of melancholy tone within the automotive rumble, but he shook his head, telling himself to stop being absurd. He imagined what his wife would say if he told her about his musings. _Your head is always in the clouds, Jimmy. Whatever am I going to do with you?_ James Novak sighed and looked down at his desk, at the half-finished document blinking up at him from his desktop screen. He sighed again and set his coffee down, resting it in the middle of the millions of old mug-rings left from the times he’d forgotten to put a coaster down on the antique wood.  


James Novak pushed the curtains aside with his forefinger and looked out once more to see if he could catch a glimpse of his next-door neighbour once more. As he did so, his eyes involuntarily rose to the ceiling, and he murmured to himself, quietly, so that no one else could hear: “God, why did you send Dean Winchester here? Is it to punish me for something I’ve done? Please, tell me what you want me to do.” He waited for a few seconds, but, like every other time he prayed, there was no answer; James Novak was getting awfully tired of the silence.  


Something caught his eye, a movement just outside. James Novak ceased his prayer and looked out the window once more, just in time to see his wife walk across the lawn and greet the two brothers as they were on their way into the house.  


James Novak watched entranced as first Sam, then Dean turned and headed toward her. He watched as Dean Winchester gave Amelia a half smile, a polite I’m-not-really-in-the-mood-but-whatever, smile. When he really smiled his face lit up like sun shining on a summer’s day. His eyes crinkled and he lifted his chin, his teeth flashing, and…. James Novak shook himself, swallowing hard. God was punishing him, that much was for sure.  


Dean and Sam looked at one another, as if uncertain, then, as James Novak watched, Dean nodded and Sam gave Amelia a polite smile.  


What was that about?

Sam’s gaze drifted from Amelia, and James Novak let the curtains fall in place, stepping back into the shadows, his heart pounding; just for a second there, Sam’s eyes had met his. He’d seen James Novak watching Dean. 

_Oh no._

__

Amelia Novak came back into the house to find her husband sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up when she entered and gave her a rare half-smile.  


“Did you just get back from church?” James Novak asked, clutching his cup of coffee, trying to ignore the sweat that was trickling down the back of his white collared shirt.

“Yeah, I was just out talking to those Winchester brothers. They’re so polite! Dean has a bit of a foul mouth, but I think that, with a little work, he’d make a wonderful husband.” 

James Novak watched as his wife smiled to herself in the quiet way she did when she was up to something. A sinking feeling filled James Novak’s chest as he released the strangle grip he had on his coffee cup. “What?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Amelia looked at him innocently. “What do you mean, what?” She asked sweetly, her full lips turning up as she smiled and pushed a lock of straight blonde hair from her face with the flick of a hand. 

“What did you do, Amelia?” 

“Nothing… I just… invited Sam and Dean to dinner tonight, seeing as it’s Sam’s last night here, and this house is so empty without Claire around.” 

James Novak’s heart, caught in the middle of trying to soar to his mouth, and sink to the soles of his shoes, stayed suspended in motion behind his ribcage. “Dinner?” He echoed, not quite sure how to react physically.

“No need to thank me, darling.” Amelia murmured, pushing her hair back behind an ear and bending down to peck James Novak’s cheek, her hands resting on his shoulders for a brief second. “I think that you and Dean could be friends. You’d be a good influence on him. He’s new in town, and I think he should have someone to guide him, don’t you?”

The sweet words that fell from his wife’s lips slowly knelled the end of James Novak’s sanity. He gave her a hollow smile in return and made an agreeable grunt, while deep down his stomach was twisting wildly about. Oh, Amelia, if only she knew… James Novak dropped his gaze to the tepid coffee. He was damned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La Cathédrale Engloutie is a prelude composed by Claude Debussy. The title translates to Sunken Cathedral in English. While I was writing this chapter I listened to this song quite a few times, and the piece seems to fit it perfectly. It begins, to my ears, as slow and almost desperate, then builds up in the middle to a rousing, heart-rending arc, only to trail off into sorrow and quiet with a few more crescendos and decrescendos. It reminds me of Dean and Cas, of their relationship. I love the piece.  
> And, as for the story, things are beginning to build up! The next chapter is going to be about... THE DINNER! Expect some awkward conversations and interactions between Cas and Dean.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments!


	4. Bad Moon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to apologise to everyone for the late publication of this chapter!! Things really got crazy in my life, and then I dropped my computer and my screen cracked and just... yeah, things got REALLY crazy and I was without a laptop for a few days. Anyway, I hope that you all enjoy this chapter, and I want to give a HUGE shout out to my Beta. You're amaaazing! Thank you for tirelessly answering all my questions and for talking me through this chapter. I couldn't have done it without you!

“Dude! There is NO way I’m letting you out of the house looking like that.” Sammy’s face split into a grin, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. There was still an air of tension hanging about the two brothers, though Amelia Novak’s invitation had managed to push it mostly aside.  


Dean looked down at himself, at the work-worn blue jeans, faded a bit around the knees and hems, only slightly stained, and then at the black t-shirt and beaten up plaid button-down. “What?” He asked, his eyebrows drawing together quizzically as he glanced back at his little brother. “What’s wrong with this?”  


“Dean…” Sam rubbed his forehead, still laughing. “Just… dress like how you’d dress on a date. Okay?”  


At this, Dean looked a little consternated. He’d never really “dated” before. Sure, he’d slept with hundreds of women, but buying a drink and taking someone home for the night was completely different than taking someone on a date. “I don’t understand why this isn’t good enough. I only agreed to go cuz they’re my neighbours and… whatever.” Dean grumbled softly to himself, drudging over to his duffle and pulling out a nicer pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. “I’m not gonna get all dressed up for dinner.” He pulled his work boots off and began shedding clothing as he made his way to the bathroom. Dean had long since dispensed any proprieties he’d had when it came to his body.  


“Suit yourself. I’m not gonna be the one looking like a jackass when we arrive.” Sam called back at him, shaking his head and pulling on his own shoes. He had chosen to wear black trousers and dinner jacket with a crisp white shirt and a black tie; nothing too fancy, nothing too flashy. Standard business dinner garb.  


Dean came out a few minutes later, his clothes a little better. His jeans fit him better, and they weren’t too worn. In fact, they looked fairly new. He didn’t look like a construction worker anymore. “I’m not gonna look like a jackass, jackass.” Came the less than witty reply, and as Dean passed him by, he punched Sam’s shoulder lightly.  


“Hey!” Sam cried, grabbing his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “Jerk!” He lightly shoved his older brother, unable to hold back a slight grin. This was a good sign. Things were beginning to heal between them.  


“Bitch!” Was the laughing reply as Dean grabbed Sam around the neck and pulled him down to his height, where he then began to grind his fist into his head. “When will you get it into your head that I am clearly the alpha dog!”  


“In your fucking dreams!”  


They burst out laughing, releasing one another. An unsaid peace had been spoken, and they knew they were okay. Sure, they hadn’t been too close in the last few years, but they were family. Family eclipsed every barrier and difference – at least to the Winchesters.  


Finally Dean let out a sigh, scratching the back of his neck as he looked ruefully toward the door. “I suppose we should get going. It’s quarter to 6.”  


Sam mirrored his older brother’s expression and nodded. “Maybe they’ll have really good alcohol.” He sounded hopeful, but they knew deep down that alcohol probably wasn’t on the menu.  


They mentally geared themselves for battle and headed out the door – Dean stepping out first, his broad shoulders squared against the warm summer night breeze.  


“Hey,” One step of Sam’s ridiculously long legs caught him up to his shorter brother and he nodded to the house. “Maybe it’ll be fun. Maybe you’ll like having next door neighbours.” And at the grunt he received in reply, he knew that it was a futile attempt.  


Within moments they had crossed from their yard to that of their neighbours and were at the door. Dean looked at his brother with a hesitant stare before pressing the pearlescent doorbell button. Neither of the two brothers looked thrilled, but as soon as they heard the footsteps they both schooled their faces into polite smiles.  


“Oh, Sam! Dean! Welcome!!” Amelia pulled the door open with a broad smile on her pale face. She looked pretty, her blonde hair pulled into a loose braid that fell down her back. Even Sam, who only had eyes for Jess, had to admit that she was handsome.  


“Hello, Mrs Novak, it’s –“ Sam began, but Amelia interrupted him with a laugh.  


“Please, Sam, call me Amelia.” There was a slightly awkward pause before she ushered them in with a few more pleasantries.  


Dean found himself looking around the entrance hall with some interest as he was waved inside by the shorter young woman. He was interested in how normal people lived, how normal couples interacted. He had to smile to himself a little as he saw the tchotchkes populating nooks and shelves. Pictures hung on the walls, staged photos of various people, old and new. "Hey," Dean looked back at his hostess, “who's this? That looks like..." He pointed to a photograph that looked as though it was taken in the late 90s. The photograph appeared to be of a large family, all smiling. Eight children and… no mother. Dean frowned a little.  


Amelia's already smiling face threaten to break under the weight of her cheer as she turned toward the picture. "Oh! That's one of Jimmy and his family!!" She pointed at a young, stiff looking James Novak and giggled a little. "Jimmy hates this photograph, but I won't let him take it down."  


Personally, Dean could see why Amelia's husband hated that photo. Everyone was wearing tacky Christmas sweaters, the boys' hair was slicked back, all in the same fashion, and the girls had neat pony tails. They were all smiling and they had a very All-American white bread sort of feel to them. All but poor little James Novak. He looked to be about 16 in that photo, he was gawky and uncomfortable, his gaze not quite meeting the camera. Dean sympathized with him, his hand twitching unconsciously. Where was James Novak’s mother? Surely, in a family photo, she would have been there.  


"Oh yes, Jimmy had ten siblings." Came the bright answer as Amelia turned from the photograph to the hall door at the opposite end.  


"Had?" Dean asked, looking up suddenly, immediately picking up on the past-tense.  


It was the first time he'd seen anything but pleasantness on the woman's face. Her smile faltered and she looked down at her feet, opening her mouth to speak, but as she did there came a shuffling noise from the other end of the house. Amelia perked up and her smile was back. "That will be Jimmy!" She waved at the brothers to follow her as she headed toward the noise.  


Sam and Dean looked at one another as she walked passed them.  


"WOW" mouthed the older of the two, his eyebrows lifting.  


Sam nodded, looking from Dean to Amelia, clearly curious. It was obvious that something had happened, and it was even more obvious that it was not a comfortable subject.  


"I'm gonna ask." Dean whispered, nodding to the retreating woman. He received an elbow in the ribs for that.  


"Don't you dare." Hissed Sammy, his eyes narrowing. "I told you to be nice."  


"I'm always nice." Returned Dean, a wicked smile on his handsome face.  


"Just shut up about it. That's not dinner party talk."  


Dean rolled his eyes and gave Sammy his I Do What I Want smirk.  


When they walked into what appeared to be the dining room, they saw James Novak standing in the middle of the room looking somewhat dazed. He was wearing a white button down and a navyblue tie that was halfway off and put on backwards. Dean's poorly suppressed smile made its way to his eyes instead, and he held his hand out to James Novak. "Hey, good to see you again, man."  


James Novak looked down at the hand as though he was confused, but then, almost hesitantly, he took it. "Yes," he agreed in a deep, gravelly voice.  


There was another silence as each person in the room searched for something else to say. They were saved by a loud metallic ringing noise. The three men started and looked about in bewilderment, but Amelia clapped her hands together with a gasp.  


"Oh! Food! I hope you boys are hungry!"  


Dean's eyes lit up at that, and he couldn't help but sniff the air hopefully. He licked his lips and watched Amelia for a second before piping up. “Do you need any help?” He asked cheerily, half following the woman.  


Amelia turned about and smiled at him. “How kind! Yes, thank you, if you’d like to bring a few things to the table.” She nodded toward the kitchen.  


Dean followed her happily, pausing only to wink over his shoulder at his little brother. He stayed close behind Amelia, partially walking toward the delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. “Whatever you’re cooking smells awesome, Mrs.. Amelia.” Dean licked his lips, peering past the woman at the pristine room ahead of her.  


“Oh, it’s nothing. I just made a steak and potato casserole.” Amelia flicked the kitchen light on and walked over to the stove. “If you could, the drinks are in the fridge. There’s some punch and water.”  


Dean watched for a few seconds as she pulled the oven door open, inhaling more of the delightful fumes pervading the air. “You want both of these out?” He glanced up at the blonde quizzically before looking back into the fridge at two frosted pitchers on the middle shelf.  


“Yes, both of them! Thank you so much, Dean.” Amelia turned to smile at Dean, who returned it with a dazzling one of his own.  


“No problem, Amelia.” Dean winked and gently kicked the door shut as he hoisted the two pitchers high. “I’ll be right back.” Despite his earlier misgivings, Dean was beginning to get excited about the dinner party. He hadn’t had a home cooked dinner in years. Not since Lisa. Dean’s lips thinned a little and pushed the thought out of his head as he re-entered the dining room.  


At the sight of his little brother and Amelia’s husband standing several feet from each other, Sam trying to carry on a conversation with his obviously unwilling partner, Dean had to crack a smug grin. Sam wasn't as great at dinner parties as he liked to pretend, came the smug thought.  


“Oh, Dean!” Sam looked up at Dean, a grateful look on his face. “Hey, let me help you with that.” The taller Winchester brother quickly took one of the pitchers from Dean and rested it on the table, giving him a pointed look. He was about to say something when Amelia appeared on the scene carrying a steaming bowl of veggies.  


Dean ignored his brother and instead turned to Amelia. “Wow, that smells amazing!” He stepped by to allow her to pass by with the hot ceramic container.  


“Thanks, Dean.” Amelia beamed, her cheeks pink from the heat of the oven. “I hope it tastes good, too.”  


“I’m don’t think you’ll have to worry about that!! Do you need any more help?”  


“Oh, no. Thanks again, but you’ve done so much already. You boys just get to know each other. I’ll be out here with the rest of the food in a few minutes.” The woman winked at Dean and gave her husband a light peck on the cheek.  


The three men stared after her, silence filling the room in her wake.  


“So… uh… have you guys lived here long?” Dean asked, leaning up against a chair, hands in his pockets.  


“Yes. Amelia and I grew up in Lawrence.” James Novak looked over at Dean, then glanced away as though uncomfortable.  


Dean’s eyes narrowed with impish curiosity. “That’s pretty cool. Sam and I were born here, too.” He cocked his head, trying to catch James Novak’s eye.  


Amelia reappeared before her husband had the chance to reply. She set two brightly coloured bowls of vegetables on the table and then brushed her hands off on the front of her dress. “All right, boys, let’s eat!” The blonde beamed and sat down to the right of the table head. When James Novak sat down at the head of the table, Amelia took his hand and held her other out expectantly.  


Sam and Dean sat down at the table, Sam across from Amelia, and Dean next to James Novak. Sam accepted Amelia’s hand, then took Dean’s, giving him a pointed look. Dean glared and gripped his little brother’s hand hard just long enough to be very uncomfortable. That would serve Sam right for assuming Dean wasn’t going to comply. He then held his other hand out to James Novak, giving him a cursory glance, but the man didn’t take his hand. Dean edged it closer, beginning to feel as though the man had something against him. He stiffened, about to round on the man when his hand was suddenly engulfed by James Novak’s slightly smaller, firm hand.  


James Novak bowed his head and began to say the meal prayer, his voice low and gravelly.  


Dean listened intently as the man spoke, feeling a slight tremor in the hand holding his. There was something definitely odd about James Novak, and Dean’s curiosity only deepened. Why didn’t James Novak like him? He didn’t seem to mind him at first, so what had changed in the time that had passed?  


They all said Amen at the end of the prayer and looked up. Dean’s hand was released as though it was a fiery coal, but he said nothing. He watched as everyone began dishing themselves out, his brain whirring. Finally, when Amelia asked him if he wasn’t hungry, he smiled and shook his head, just as Sam let out a laugh.  


“I’m always hungry!” Dean said just as Sam burst out, “He’s always hungry.”  


They looked at one another and grinned.  


“This sure does smell great.” Dean leaned forward and began dishing himself heaping piles of buttered veggies, warm cornbread, and savoury casserole.  


“Well, help yourself. There’s a lot of it.” Amelia replied.  


For a short while the only noise that could be heard was the scraping of silver on china, punctuated by the occasional groan of pleasure emanating from Dean’s mouth.  


Presently Amelia set down her fork and poured herself a glass of punch. “So, Dean, why Lawrence? You seem well travelled. Do you have family here or did you fall in love with our beautiful city?”  


Dean and Sam exchanged looks.  


“Uh, kinda.” Dean supplied, his lips quirking upward. “Sam ’n’ me were actually born here. We moved when I was four.”  


“Oh!” Amelia clapped her hands together. “So you must have family here!”  


“Well, no. Sam lives in Cali and my old man moves around a lot.” Dean shrugged. “I got a friend here, though. He owns an auto shop on Main Street. I’m working for him while I find the perfect spot for my own business.”  


Amelia nodded, her hands resting on the table as she stared intently at Dean, her lips pursed.  


“What business are you opening?” The question came, not from Amelia, but from her husband. James Novak was sitting still, hands in his lap, food barely touched. For the first time that night he looked straight at Dean, their gaze connecting.  


Dean took a drink of water, wishing desperately that it was Jameson, before speaking. There was something going on behind those dark blue eyes, and Dean wanted to figure it the hell out. He hated mystery. “An auto shop where I can restore vehicles. Preferably vintage cars and bikes, but I’m not going to be picky.”  


“So you repair cars? That’s so interesting! I’ll have to have you look at our car. It keeps rattling and neither Jimmy or I are any good with that sort of thing.” Amelia beamed at Dean.  


“Yeah, I can do that. Just let me know when.”  


“So, you must like working with your hands.” She continued, chuckling to herself as Dean helped himself to another plate of food.  


“Oh yeah. I love getting hands on with stuff. It’s no fun if there’s no challenge, right? That’s one of the reasons why I picked out the house. It’s got a lot of issues, but once it’s finished it’s gonna be a beautiful thing.” Dean spoke between mouthfuls, already having eaten enough for three people.  


“How much do you have done?” Amelia asked, appearing genuinely interested.  


“Well, Sammy ‘n’ me got the roof done and everything ripped out of the kitchen. I gotta start painting the walls in the kitchen and then start working on the floor. Then I gotta pick out new cabinets and appliances and stuff.”  


“Hey! Jimmy can help you with that!” Amelia clapped her hands and beamed broadly, looking very pleased with herself. “He’s really good a that sort of thing! You know he painted painted and fixed this whole house up while I was pregnant with Claire. He’s a wiz at it!” She grasped her husband’s hand and squeezed it. “He’d love to help you, right, Jimmy!”  


“Well,” James Novak began, floundering about. “I’m not great with… floors and…”  


“Nonsense! You’re great with wood, Jimmy!”  


James Novak coughed and spluttered, looking quickly down at his plate.  


“Oh, I don’t… I don’t think I need any help.” Dean supplied, pausing his eating just long enough to assure the woman.  


“Don’t be silly, Dean. That’s a lot of work for one person. Besides, if you take a look at our car then it’s the least we could do.”  


“And,” Sam spoke up, clearly enjoying Dean’s discomfort, “if you’re going to have the house done in time for my wedding, you’ll need some help.”  


“You’re going to have your wedding there?” Amelia asked, turning to Sam with avid interest. “That’s a wonderful idea! Dean’s going to need all the help he can get, then!! It’s a pity Claire is at my parents’ house for the summer. She loves helping with this sort of thing!”  


“No, no, I couldn’t possibly accept. I’d rather do it on –“ Dean winced and broke off as he felt Sam kick him sharply on his leg. “I just wanna see how much I can –“ He began again before he was interrupted by another surreptitious kick. He looked over at Sam, murder on his mind as he began again. “Do you mind excusing me?” He asked, smiling tightly at Amelia. “I need to smoke real quick. Sam. I don’t have a lighter. Come with me.” Dean stood up, patting his breast packet for the emergency pack of cigarettes he always kept there during social gatherings. Dean wasn’t much of a smoker, but he’d found out long ago that he could get out of any situation by saying he needed a smoke.  


“Yeah, sure.” Sam agreed and stood up and followed his brother out of the house.  


As soon as the door closed behind them, Dean turned on his little brother. “What the HELL, man??” He growled, glowering at the taller man. “You tryin’ta break my leg??”  


“You should stop being so prideful and just accept their help. At this point you’re just being rude.” Sam shot back, returning his brother’s look with one of equal irritation.  


“I don’t want his help, and he doesn’t want to give it to me.”  


“Dean, stop being so pig headed and just accept his help. Otherwise you’re going to look like an ass and have a strained relationship with your neighbours.” Sam ran a hand through his overly long hair and turned back to the house. “I’m going back inside. You might want to smoke one of those things so you smell like a cigarette and not like a douche.” He added as Dean took a step forward to follow him.  


“Oh, uh… right.” Dean answered sheepishly, taking the pack of cigarettes out and a lighter.  


***  


Inside the house, Amelia turned to her husband, an imploring look on her face. “He’s so sweet, Jimmy! And did you hear him, he has NO one around him.”  


James Novak watched his wife even as he heard a death knell. “Amelia,” he began, desperately trying to find a way to wriggle out of his predicament. There was no way he was going to be able to be around Dean Winchester and stay sane. He couldn’t do this. “I don’t think Dean Winchester wants me to help him.”  


“Don’t be silly, Jimmy. He’s such a sweetie, and he’s going to be all alone. He needs a community! What if he runs into trouble? He won’t have anyone to help him. Please, Jimmy. We should be there for him so he has people nearby.” Amelia’s brow furrowed and she looked so earnest, so sorrowful, that James Novak knew he was going to cave in. He had no reason good enough to stop from helping a lost soul.  


“Amelia… I’ll… I’ll think about it.” He sighed, his shoulders bowing in.  


Amelia bounced up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Jimmy! I know you boys will get along! I just KNOW it! You both love restoring things and working with wood.  


James Novak’s face turned red and he ducked his head again, speechless. His heart, he felt, was going to give out at any time. He heard one set of footsteps and looked up suddenly, his heart beating wildly. When Sam appeared in the doorway, his hands, unconsciously clenched, relaxed.  


Amelia looked up, too, smiling. “Done already?”  


“Oh, I don’t smoke. Dean forgets his lighter all the time, so I keep one on me whenever we’re together. He knows I do.”  


“You’re a good brother.” Amelia murmured, pushing her plate back.  


“Well… I don’t know about that…”  


“You are. I can tell.”  


James Novak watched his wife as she chattered with the younger Winchester brother. He kept glancing toward the door Dean had exited through moments ago. Inside his head he could still hear Dean’s voice as he exclaimed loudly. James Novak would have sworn he was doing it on purpose. Those moans… James Novak’s eyes closed just for a moment, Amelia and Sam’s voices faded in the background as he pictured Dean Winchester.  


_“Amelia, you must have been a professional chef, because this is so GOOD.” Dean moaned, leaning back in his chair, his lips glistening with saliva as he licked them and let out what James Novak imagined would have been a near orgasmic moan. “God, that was good.”_  


“Hey, sorry about that.”  


James Novak’s head nearly shot off his shoulder as it jolted upwards. Standing just near the doorway, reeking of cigarette smoke, stood the temptation himself. His hands were in the pockets of his low slung jeans, only the thumbs protruded as he ambled forward. James Novak looked away quickly, his chest constricting.  


“No worries” he heard his wife chirp.  


Blue eyes reluctantly dragged up, their gaze drawn to the muscled legs flexing beneath heavy, dark blue denim jeans.  


“So, were you talkin’ about me while I was gone? Hope it was all good.”  


James Novak heard Amelia titter and he turned his focus back to the cold food on his plate. The conversation was nothing but a dull echo playing in the corners of his mind, a secondary sound to that of his beating heart. Every so often the lulling buzz would be broken by one of Dean Winchester’s chuckles or, even worse, by one of the purely sinful groans that would fall from his lips like forbidden sweets. Every time that happened, James Novak would glance up and watch as the man’s knuckles flexed around his fork, the way his lips parted just enough to let the sounds escape.  


“Is everyone done?” He heard his wife ask, and he looked up.  


The two brothers agreed, and Amelia got up to clear their plates. “No, no! Please, stay sitting.” She said as Dean began to help, “I’m just going to put them in the sink. I’ll be right out with dessert.”  


“Dessert?” James Novak watched as Dean’s face turned almost comically hopeful and excited.  


James Novak looked away, licking his lips. This was going to be too much to bear. He would have to tell Amelia he couldn’t do it. He would have to think up an excuse.  


Amelia came back into the room, holding a round layer cake covered in white frosting. “Here we are.”  


“Is there nothing you can’t do?” Dean demanded, staring at the cake hungrily, despite the four plates he’d eaten. “That just… looks amazing.”  


“It’d better be.” Amelia giggled impishly, her cheeks flushing. “After all, it IS called the Better Than Sex Cake.”  


Dean and Sam gave her an appreciative chuckle, and James Novak smiled a little.  


She set it down and cut it. She gave the biggest piece to Dean and winked. “I hope you like it.”  


James Novak watched as though from a faraway place, his eyes almost glazed over as Dean lifted a forkful of cake to his lips.

He watched as the man slowly chewed and swallowed. As the man set the fork down and leaned back in his chair, his eyes sliding shut as he uttered a truly obscene noise. James Novak watched with horrid fascination as Dean’s throat bobbed, his shoulder muscles relaxing beneath the fitted t-shirt.  


“Ooohhh, God. That IS better than sex.” Dean murmured, pushing forward and grabbing the fork again.  


For the first time in his life, James Novak felt like swearing. The world was against him, surely. This was a test he wasn’t sure he could pass, for it was a test that was going to last for a very long time. Dean Winchester was his next-door neighbour, for Pete’s sake! Neither of them were leaving any time soon. James Novak bowed his head in sorrow, his shoulders heavy with the weight of this knowledge.  


He wouldn’t have been able to say whether or not the cake was good, for he could not taste anything. Talk slowly picked up momentum again, but James Novak couldn’t hear a thing they were saying. He did register, however, Dean excusing himself from the table.  


“The bathroom is just through the living room and the first door when you enter the hall.” Amelia said in answer to, what James Novak could only assume, was a query about the bathroom.  


“Thanks.” Dean clicked his tongue at her and winked.  


James Novak watched as the object of his attention followed the directions to the bathroom. He sat there, fidgeting with his food and glancing at his watch. Snippets of conversation drifted his way as Amelia and Sam continued to talk.  


“…you’re getting married in the summer? That’s perfect!”  


“Jess always wanted an outdoor wedding…”  


“That’s so lovely, don’t you agree, Jimmy?”  


“Hmm?” James Novak looked up when he heard his name and gave his wife a bland smile. “Oh, yes. Absolutely.” He took a bite of his cake, his thoughts drifting to the door, eyes on his watch. Five minutes. Dean had been gone for five minutes.  


“I would never leave Lawrence. Jimmy wanted to travel a little, but I…”  


“…That does sound nice...”  


James Novak looked at his watch again. Only two minutes had passed.  


“What is it, Jimmy dear?”  


James Novak looked down to see his wife staring up at him, and then, in surprised realization, found that he had stood up from the table. “Oh… um… excuse me. I have to… check my email.” He watched as his wife’s smile tightened just a little. He knew full well that Amelia hated it when he checked on his projects during dinner or took calls or did anything that separated him from the meal and the company. She said it was rude, but James Novak was no good at dinners or at conversation.  


“Of course, dear.” She murmured graciously, giving him a resigned look. “Please hurry back.”  


“I will.” James Novak felt mildly guilty. He knew he ought to be helping her entertain their guests. He knew he was being more taciturn than usual, and he could tell that Amelia had sensed it as well. Unlike him, though, she did not know the reason, and was therefore a little bewildered. No doubt she would chalk it up to his being reserved around new people. The shorter man sighed inwardly and left the table, his heart beginning to beat quickly. Deep down, though he could not admit it to himself, he was looking out for Dean. His subconscious was trying its hardest to bring him in close contact with the one man he was desperate to stay away from.

*** 

Dean flushed the toilet, grousing quietly to himself. He was beginning to have the sinking feeling that there was no alcohol to be served in the Novak house, and, though dinner wasn’t as jaw clenchingly uncomfortable as first imagined, it was still awkward. Amelia was a lovely host, but she talked a LOT and she was a very inquisitive woman. Dean could tell she was trying to suss out his whole life story in just one night, and he didn’t want any of that aired out. Especially not at a dinner table.  


He walked over to the sink and washed his hands, staring around at the warm tan and green walls, at the soft green towels and the clean shower tucked away in one corner. It was a small bathroom, clearly not the main one, but it was nice looking and smelled of some unknown flora.  


Dean peered behind his shoulder surreptitiously, as though expecting someone to be watching him in a disapproving manner.

He smirked to himself and pulled on the mirror, opening the medicine cabinet behind it. After all, it wasn’t like he was REALLY doing any damage. Just a piece of harmless snooping. Everyone did it. Simple curiosity. Dean chuckled to himself and peered at the various bottles behind the mirror.  


Toothpaste, hair removal cream, Tylenol, Excedrin, various allergy medications, nasal spray, mouthwash, and an orange bottle with a white, childproof lid. “Ambien CR, huh?” Dean murmured to himself, staring at the label. “Looks like Mr Novak gets about as much sleep as I do.” He put the bottle back and closed the door.  


He dried his hands on the hand towel near the sink and left the room, fully intending to go straight back to the dining room and getting another piece of cake. He hadn’t meant to do anymore snooping, but his curiosity got the better of him and he pushed on the wooden door just to the right of the bathroom.  


A dull light illuminated the room, coming from a large computer screen on an old wooden desk. A comfortable rolling chair was pushed away from the desk. On top of the wooden surface, next to the monitor were a few photos. It looked like a home office, pretty boring. And yet Dean stepped closer, wanting to inspect the framed pictures.  


He saw one of a blonde girl who looked to be about six or seven and James Novak. Both of them were smiling broadly. James Novak was holding a hammer, and the young girl had an armful of wooden stakes. She had a gap-toothed grin, her deep set blue eyes squinted against the sun. The second picture was of Amelia. She was smiling prettily as she read a book on Christian mothering, her stomach swollen and her feet propped up on an ottoman. She looked young and happy, her hair tumbling around her face as she wrinkled her nose at the photographer.  


Dean’s smile caught a little when he saw the third picture. He reached forward and grasped it, bringing it closer to his face. This one was a much older photo. Older than the one in the hall, but of the same family, with the addition of three more people: a woman and two children, a girl and a boy. Dean drew a finger over the woman’s face and frowned. She was holding what looked like a miniature version of James Novak, her black hair pulled away from her face in a loose bun. She looked just like him. Dean’s lips turned down, looking from the mother to the child and then back. They looked like a happy family; a bit big, but completely contented and at peace with one another.  


“That photo was taken when I was four years old.”  


Dean jumped at the sound of the low, gravelly voice. He turned around quickly, trying to look as little like an ass as possible. “Oh! Ah, sorry! I, uh, I was just… I…” He hurriedly put away the photograph and gave the man a sheepish smile. “I saw a light and thought someone might have left it on.” He gestured to the computer screen lamely, his voice ringing hollow.  


“My computer is always on during the day.” James Novak said somewhat stiffly. “I have to have it on.”  


“Oh yeah?”  


“Yes. I can’t be away from it too long. It’s my job.”  


“Really? What do you do?” Dean licked his lips, stepping away from the electronic.  


“I’m a freelance technical writer.” The brunette supplied dully, staring at the blank computer screen.  


“Ohhh, that’s…. cool.” Dean nodded, trying to sound like he knew what that was and failing completely.  


“I write manuals, write up design specifications, plans, things like that.” James Novak explained, pushing the door open a little wider.  


“Ohhhhhhhhhh! Oh, that sounds… uh… fun.” Dean lied, looking one more time at the picture before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So, uh, that’s your whole family? Pretty big. I saw the one from the hall. Your mom…” He trailed off, not really knowing where he had been going with that.  


“She died.” James Novak’s voice was curt, his jaw tight. 

Dean understood that tone all too well. He would suffer no more questions on the subject, so Dean gave none. “Oh,” he said instead, heading toward the door. “Mine too.”  


Dean stopped next to James Novak and the two men looked one another in the eye, both trying to guess what the other was thinking.  


After a little while, James Novak spoke up. “We had better get back to the table. Amelia will be wondering what happened to us.”  


“…yeah, yeah, you’re right.”  


They returned to the table wordlessly, Dean falling slightly behind, lost in thought.

The Winchester brothers ended up staying another hour for after dinner coffee. Dean had hoped, when Amelia had asked if they would like a drink, that she’d meant something stronger, but was disappointed. By the end of the stay Dean had come to the gloomy conclusion that there was no booze in the Novak household. His desire for a drink wasn’t because Amelia and James Novak were rude, or because the evening had been uncomfortable, because it hadn’t. The Novaks had proven to be lovely, genuinely kind people, especially Amelia. It was simply that Dean had never gone this long on a Friday night without even so much as a beer. 

By the time they left it was around ten in the evening. Dean and Sam excused themselves saying that they had to be up early to make sure Sam got to the airport on time. Dean was dropping him off, because they’d already returned Sam’s rental car that afternoon. 

Amelia had nodded and smiled, ushering them out with a “you boys had better get some sleep, then!” and wished them a very good night. 

The brothers thanked her and her husband for a lovely evening and left, cutting across the yard to the dark house next door.

When they had left, Amelia closed the door and smiled at James Novak. “I like them.” She said, as though that settled any argument that might be put against them. “They’re sweet and polite. Sam said he wouldn’t be back here until next spring. Poor Dean will have to get that house ready for the wedding on his own. That’s such a shame. You should go over Sunday after church and offer your help.” She floated passed the man and began walking up the stairs, her smile somewhat dreamy. She paused on the fifth step and half turned toward her husband. “It’s so sad not to have a community. Not to have people close to you to turn to in times of need. We should invite him to dinner next Saturday.” She nodded to herself. “He needs to have a decent home cooked meal once in a while. I know the type of food bachelors live off of, especially young ones.” She shook her head, tsking at the very thought. “I’m going to get ready for bed, dear. Don’t stay up too late.” And with that she glided up the rest of the stairs and disappeared into their bedroom, leaving her despairing husband behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter name is the title of a song by Creedance Clearwater Revival (if you don't know them, you need to look them up. Seriously amazing). To me this song is kind of like what Cas feels is happening to him. xD


	5. Gimmie Shelter

Dean couldn’t sleep that night. His lids refused to close, and his green eyes continuously flickered from corner to corner of the room, making note of every crack and blemish that he would need to fix. One water stain to the left of the door, a crack in the plaster on the right wall, cobwebs in a dark corner of the ceiling. All these were minor, but would need to be rectified. And then his mind would drift, his eyes would glaze for a moment as he wondered what happened to James Novak’s mother. As he wondered how she had died. And then it was back to cataloguing before the question “why won’t the man even look at me?” arose. Amelia liked him, that much was obvious, so why not her husband? Did he hate him? Their meeting in the man’s office seemed to say no, but the lack of eye contact and conversation seemed to say yes.  


Dean finally closed his eyes and, with an aggravated groan, saw James Novak’s face come into focus behind his lids.  


_What is your problem, man? Why won’t you… what is wrong with me? Why the fuck does it matter so much??_   


It didn’t. It really didn’t matter, and, perhaps, that was why he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep because it was something so insignificant that there was no reason for it to matter… and yet it did.  


Dean’s eyes slid open and he looked across the room at his little brother. Sam was curled on top of an air mattress that was about a foot too short for his ridiculously huge body, his mouth slightly open as he let out soft snores every few minutes. Dean grinned and rubbed his nose, resisting the urge to dip Sam’s hand in cold water or stick a spoon in his mouth or something.  


He and Sam had been sleeping in the living room since Sam got there, two air mattresses blown up four feet away from one another. It had been nice, honestly. It reminded Dean of the old days, back when they were still kids, back when they drifted from hotel room to hotel room, he and Sam sharing a bed until they got old enough to demand their own space from one another. Yeah, the past week had been a hell of a lot of fun. Dean hadn’t fully realised how much he missed his family – his little brother – until now. And now, just when things were starting to work out, when they were starting to get close again, Sam was going back to California.  


The thought of being alone was almost crippling.  


Dean managed to drift asleep an hour before he was woken up by an insistent shake on his shoulder.  


“Dean! Hey, man, wake up!” Sam hissed, shaking him harder.  


Dean groaned and swatted at Sam’s hands, rolling on his side.  


“Hey, get UP! You’re gonna make me late.”  


Dean cracked an eye open and let out a sleepy grumble. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.” He sighed, pulling himself into a seated position. “Okay, okay, I’m up.” He threw the blanket off of his air mattress and got up. After a cursory glance to see where he’d left his pants and shirt, Dean yanked them on and slid a pair of flip flops on his feet. “Get the car started.” He mumbled, grabbing his keys from the floor and throwing them at Sam, who caught them neatly and exited the room.  


It took Dean two minutes to pee and wash the sleep from his face. He sniffed his armpits and made a face. Deodorant was quickly applied and then he was hurrying out of the house.  


Outside, Sam was waiting impatiently by the car, his fingers tapping nervously at his leg, clearly itching to look at the phone which had been unceremoniously stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans. When he spotted Dean he smiled a little and beckoned him forward. “Come on.” He called out, hurrying over to his side of the car and sliding in.  


“Yeah, yeah.” Dean grumbled again, climbing into his seat. “Hold on.” He said with a wicked grin, and then he was off, peeling out of the driveway with demonic speed.  


Sam got on his plane in plenty of time. He promised Dean to keep in contact and swore that he’d be back in a few months to help out some more. He said he’d try to get Jess to come along, after all, he really wanted Dean to meet her. Dean had nodded and rolled his eyes to all of this, and right before Sam left, he tugged his brother into a hug and gave him a resounding clap on the back.  


It was nice knowing that at least one of them was finally on the fast track to happiness. Dean, sitting in his car in the airport parking lot, mused quietly to himself, checking the clock on his dash every so often. It was 7 AM. Sam would land at 3 PM. Dean sighed and turned the key into his Baby’s ignition. “Time to go home.” He sighed, and slowly drove back to his house.  


There was a gloom hanging about his head as he made his way home, and, as the sun climbed higher and higher in the air, promising to be a happy, cheerfully bright day, Dean found himself grousing at it. He wanted it to be cold and wet. He wanted an excuse to sit inside and watch Game of Thrones on his computer. He didn’t want to do anything except wallow in his own misery. Maybe later, after five, he would call Charlie. Dean smiled at the thought of the crazy redheaded nerd girl and cheered up a little. Charlie was like Dean’s little sister. Hell, they’d been through a lot together over the years, and the thought of talking to her after a month of near radio silence sounded like the best way to turn the day around.  


So pleased with his plan was he that, as soon as he got home, Dean jogged inside the house and quickly changed into work clothes. He only paused for a moment to put a pot of coffee on and grab a two day old doughnut that he’d left sitting on a paper plate on top of the stove. It was a bit crunchy, but Dean wasn’t one to turn up his nose at food.  


When his coffee was done, Dean grabbed up his toolbox, half eaten doughnut still hanging from his mouth, and went outside. He knew it was stupid, but the damned mailbox had been bothering him since he’d first seen the place. It was slowly pulling away from the wooden trim to which it had been shoddily drilled to, and Dean had vowed to get it taken care of.  


Dean unscrewed the old mailbox and set it aside, focusing on the wood behind it. It was old and faded, the white paint chipping and peeling in huge quantities. Dean grabbed a scraper and began working. His plan was to get as much of the stuff off as possible with his tools before coating the rest in a paint remover. He knew that getting started on this – getting the paint removed from all the wood trim on his ancient Victorian home – was colossally stupid and a huge undertaking, especially when the inside of the house was barely liveable, but Dean couldn’t help it. He needed to accomplish something, even if that thing was getting the damned mailbox looking good.  


So far he’d run into nothing but trouble fixing the old place, and he figured that it would feel good to actually get something done without finding a whole mess of problems that went with it.  


Dean smiled to himself, humming a little as he buckled down and got to work. Today he’d get this done and then buy the paint and a few other supplies for the kitchen. It would all work out. It always did.  


***

  


James Novak was busy. He had two important jobs to do and was attacking them with vigour. In the back of his he thought that if he appeared as busy as possible, Amelia might leave the topic of helping Dean Winchester alone, but he was wrong. The morning after their dinner party, despite his escaping their bedroom at 6:30, James Novak heard a quiet knock on his office door. He looked at the clock on his computer and bit down on his lip. He’d been undisturbed for nearly four hours, and that was something.  


His door creaked open and Amelia poked her head through, her golden hair tumbling down over a slim shoulder as she smiled at her husband. “Hey, hun,” she chirped, stepping inside. “I brought you some coffee.”  


James Novak looked over and saw two cups in her hands. He relaxed a little, his fingers uncurling from the chair arms.  


“You weren’t in bed when I woke up. It’s already almost 10:30, so I thought you might like a pick-me-up.” She set the mug down and rested her hand on his shoulder. The look on her face told him that last night’s topic of conversation was going to be brought up again. “I was wondering…” she began, holding her own mug up and inhaling the vapours, “if you were going to see Dean after church tomorrow like we discussed.”  


“Amelia,” James Novak looked at his wife, his brows pulled together, “if he wants help, he’ll ask for it, I’m sure.”  


“No he won’t.” Amelia said firmly, rolling her eyes. “I know how you men are, dear. You wouldn’t ask for help if your life depended on it. Will you just… do it for me? Please?” She gave him an imploring look, her blue eyes wide.  


James Novak glanced up toward the heavens and prayed for strength. Dean was Amelia’s new project, that much was obvious. She wanted to help every lonely, lost soul that she came across, and normally James Novak was fine with that. But this time, God bless her, he knew that helping Dean would be impossible. He loved Amelia, but he knew better than to court temptation. “I don’t think I can. I’m so busy with work, Amelia, I just don’t have the time.”  


“You don’t work Sundays, and just last week you said you needed to get and do something physical.” She countered. “This is perfect for you. You and Dean could be really good friends. I know it. I can just tell.” She pressed a hand to James Novak’s shoulder again and gave him yet another pleading look. “Please, Jimmy, do it for me?”  


James Novak crumpled and nodded, looking away from his wife. “Yes… okay.” He sighed in defeat.  


Amelia set her cup down and clapped her hands excitedly before wrapping both arms around him and kissing his cheek.

“Thanks, dear! I just know you’ll have a great time!!”  


He watched her as she picked her cup back up and bounced out of the room, unaware of the quiet agony she had caused. James Novak loved his wife and wanted nothing more than to make her happy. She’d been his best friend since childhood, and they’d done nearly everything together. He knew how strong willed she would be when she set her mind to something.  


And then, suddenly, an unbidden thought came into his head: perhaps God had sent Dean to tempt him, like he had done to so many in the Bible. Perhaps he was meant to conquer the wicked desires in his heart. Was he strong enough to withstand Dean’s charms?  


James Novak tried to get back to work, but he was unable to concentrate. He spent an hour staring at a half-written document before deciding it was time to take a break.  


“I’m going out,” he called to his wife upon leaving his office. “I’ll be back in an hour.”  


Amelia appeared from around the corner, her hair piled up in a sloppy bun, her fingers smudged with charcoal. “Where are you going?” She smiled, pushing a strand of hair from her face.  


“I have to.. do some thinking.” James Nocak replied, giving her a brief smile.  


“Ah… do… you want me to go with you?” She leaned against the door, her brow furrowed. They both knew what he meant by thinking. Whenever James Novak needed to clear his head, he visited his mother.  


“No, not right now.” He said softly, unable to look her in the eye. He knew the face she would be making. Ordinarily he brought her along whenever he was visiting the graveyard, for being alone never did him any good there, and having Amelia around him was usually a comfort. His refusal had concerned Amelia, he could tell by her voice.  


“Okay, dear. Just… be back for dinner.”  


“I will be.” He promised, then hurried around, walking quickly out of the house, pausing only to grab the keys from their usual spot on the key hook near the door.  


Outside it was already hot and dry, half passed none and the sun was high in the clear Kansas sky. James Novak walked purposefully toward his car, but stopped when he saw Dean kneeling, head toward the ground, backside in the air, peering at something James Novak could not see. He hesitated for a few moments, debating whether or not to call out to the man or just to leave. Halfway through his internal argument, his mind went practically blank as Dean pushed upwards and backwards, setting himself in a kneeling position. James Novak watched as his shoulders moved beneath the tight fabric of his sleeveless undershirt, mesmerizing in their fluidity.  


James Novak stood, tight lipped, as Dean hauled himself to a standing position, his physique clearly visible even from a distance. He was in perfect shape.  


Dean turned around, causing James Novak to panic internally, his heart thudding at an unsettling pace. He took a quick step back, which was, in hindsight, the wrong move to make, for it caught Dean’s eye.  


The handsome man broke into a smle and waved at James Novak. “Hey!” Dean jogged up, freckled cheeks dimpling as his smile broadened. “Thanks for dinner last night, man. Your wife is a great cook. Sam ‘n’ me loved it.”  


“You should direct your thanks to Amelia. She says I’m a disaster in the kitchen and therefore not allowed in.” James Novak answered woodenly, his mouth dry.  


“What, literally?” Dean asked, leaning on the fence, his white teeth flashing as he grinned mischievously.  


“Excuse me?” James Novak looked at the strange young man, cocking his head slightly to the left.  


“I mean… you’re literally not allowed in the kitchen?” Dean tried again, his smile growing by the second.  


James Novak didn’t comprehend what was so funny, and stood there, quite perplexed. “No, I can go in the kitchen, I am simply not allowed to –“  


Dean shook his head and broke in, clapping a hand on the confused man’s shoulder. “Dude,” he laughed, “relax, I was just yankin’ your chain. I know what you meant.”  


James Novak stared at him, still slightly bemused.  


“C’mon, don’t you smile?” He heard Dean ask, and, as though it had been a command, he felt his lips twitch. The movement was answered by an even larger grin from Dean.  


“So… your brother has left?” James Novak found himself asking, becoming engaged despite his better judgement.  


“Yeah, he’s gonna be back in Cali around 3.”  


“Oh.” The shorter man’s lips pursed and then he found himself asking the question that he’d been dreading. “With him gone it will take you twice as long to get your house in order. Would you like my help?” He stood there, staring at Dean through hooded eyes. Dean would say no, of course, but James Novak was surprised at the small part of him that hoped for the alternate decision.  


There was a long pause and then Dean nodded. “Yeah,” and then more firmly, as though trying to convince himself, “yeah. Definitely. I gotta start work soon, too, so I appreciate all the help I can get.”  


“Oh.” James Novak shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. “Then… I’ll stop by tomorrow after church and we can get started.”  


“Yeah, okay. See you then.” Dean winked and gave him a little wave.  


James Novak watched him turn and walk back to the house, and he knew without a doubt that he was royally screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading everyone! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. My awesome beta SciFiFantasyStuff has really given me direction and the spark to keep going! I hope you all continue to read the coming chapters, because the ball has begun to roll, and it's all downhill from here!  
> The chapter title is a song by The Rolling Stones.


	6. Under Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologise for the ridiculously long wait between chapters this time 'round. I don't know why it took me so damn long to get this one written, but as an apology for the wait time, I added a little something for anyone who is still reading it.  
> Enjoy!

12:36 Sunday afternoon found Dean sitting on his air mattress munching on cheese balls, his laptop open and playing Dr Sexy MD, one of the brunette’s favourite daytime soaps. He was taking a break from housework, the kitchen floor was covered in a blue tarp and the walls had been covered with two coats of primer. Dean popped an orange sphere into his mouth and crunched down, staring at Dr Sexy with a somewhat dreamy look in his eyes. “Damn,” he said aloud, bits of fake cheese particles falling from his lips, “Dr Sexy is right. Fuck, that ass!” Dean groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the character pushed a nurse against a wall and began kissing her. “Mmmmmhmmm,” Dean was just about to break down and rub one out when he heard a knock on the front door.  


Pausing the show with much grumbling, the young man got up and trudged toward the door, imagining the least sexy things he could… just for insurance.  


_Damn, I need to get laid_ , he thought to himself, a little ashamed at the need for self-gratification. How long had it been since he’d had sex? _Too damn long._  


It was along that train of thought Dean was crossing when he yanked open the door and saw his neighbour standing just outside, his fist poised in knocking position. Dean had to do a double take, for the man was no longer dressed in his ill-fitted suit. Instead, James Novak was dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a shirt that had some sort of bullshit Jesus camp logo on it. His hair looked mussed, as though he’d yanked the shirt on over neatly combed hair and hadn’t bothered straightening it out. Dean grinned. He liked this look – it was very laid back. “Heya, Jimmy.” He stepped aside to allow the man to enter. “I almost forgot you were comin’ over. I’m just waiting for the primer to dry in the kitchen, but as soon as it does, we can get started.”  


James Novak gave him one of his confused looks (an expression Dean was quickly becoming accustomed to. He was beginning to think the man had it trademarked) and looked toward the door.  
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “What’s up, Jimmy? You got that look.”  


As soon as he said it, James Novak’s lips turned down in a small, even more confused, frown. “You’re painting inside?” He asked, ignoring the familiar use of his name. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to paint the outside first?”  


It was Dean’s turn to give him the odd look. He rested his hands on his lips and drew his brows together, his green eyes slightly narrowed in a curious stare. “Wha’dya mean?” As he spoke, one of the younger man’s hands slipped from his hip and he lifted one of the cheese-encrusted fingers to his mouth.  


James made a half choking noise, turning his head away to look out the door again, his cheeks reddening a little.  


Dean sucked thoughtfully on his finger, a little bemused at the strange noise. “You okay, man?” He stepped closer, staring intently at his guest. “Swallow something wrong?”  


“No! I mean yes – I mean… I’m fine. Don’t you think you ought to be painting outside first? It all has to be done by next year, so wouldn’t it be more logical to work on the outside while it’s still warm?”  


“But… I want to get the inside finished first.”  


“You can always complete the inside during the cold months. It’ll be a lot more difficult to paint the exterior while it’s 20 degrees.”  


“But…” Dean began, but then closed his mouth. When he actually thought about it, it made perfect sense. “Okay,” he grudgingly agreed, squaring his shoulders. “But this means I gotta get all the supplies. Hell, I don’t even know where to rent a power washer.” He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned in frustration.  


“Not a problem.” James Novak replied calmly. “I know someone who has one, and we can get everything else at his store. He goes to my church.”  


“Oh… cool. Uh… yeah, that’d work.” Dean licked his lips and nodded, looking up at his companion. “You… gonna come with me, then?” He watched him carefully, his lips tightly shut.  


“Do you not want me?”  


The older Winchester brother saw the minor trepidation in his next door neighbour’s face and relaxed, smiling. “’course I do, man. How in hell else am I supposed to find all this shit? I just didn’t know if you wanted to. It’s going to be tedious. Hell, I don’t even know what colour I want.” Dean watched as James broke into a real smile. He’s not that bad when he smiles, he thought to himself, raising his eyebrows in approval. _I can almost see why Amelia likes him._  


“I can be of some help, then. I painted the exterior of my house a few years ago, so I can offer advice. We should take my truck, if you don’t mind.”  


Dean shook his head and grinned broadly. “I don’t mind at all. I don’t want to get my Baby dirty.” He winked at James and turned around, heading toward the living room. “Let me grab my wallet and phone real quick.” His feet took him to his laptop where he closed the lid and grabbed the mobile phone, wallet, and keys that lay on the floor near the mattress. “You want anything to drink before we go?” He called out, making a detour to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.  


“No thank you,” came James’ answer and Dean chuckled to himself.  


“Okay.” He left the water bottle on the floor near the mini fridge and jogged to where James Novak was waiting. “I’m all set. Let’s rock’n’roll.”  


They headed toward the door, James waiting a little as the younger man closed and locked the door behind him. They headed across the lawn before the shorter of the two split off, explaining that he needed to get his keys.  


Dean waited outside, hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes squinted against the near oppressive afternoon sun showered his head and shoulders with a golden halo.  


He leaned against the cab of James’ white Toyota Tundra, surprised at the brand choice. He’d always been more of a classic Ford truck fan, himself, but he couldn’t deny the power behind a Toyota engine. He resisted the urge to pop the hood and contented himself with running a hand over the smooth white finish. It was an older model, he guessed it to be an early 2000, but it had been maintained beautifully. _At least he knows how to take care of a car. __  
_

A few minutes later James appeared on the scene, a consternated look on his admittedly handsome face.  


“Hey! You’re back! Let’s get goin’!” Dean beckoned him onward. “It’s as hot as hell out here.” He grinned and as soon as he head the door behind him unlock he pulled the door open and hopped inside. “Nice car.” Came the bright remark, one of Dean’s hands sliding across the dash. “Can’t say I pictured you with a truck. Thought it was Amelia’s.”  


“What kind of car did you think I’d drive?”  


“Dunno,” Dean answered, staring sidelong at his straight laced companion, “maybe a pimpmobile or something.”  


A sudden quiet filled the inside of the cab, only to be broken seconds later by Dean’s raucous laughter. James turned to look at the man, giving him a stare normal people reserved for those they perceived as completely and utterly starkers.  


“Sorry! Sorry!” Dean gasped, wiping a tear from his eyes. “Just… couldn’t help it!”  


James rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. They both quieted down, the shorter of the two concentrated on his driving and the other looked out the window.  


They stayed quiet for a short while before Dean sighed. “Lawrence certainly has changed.” He watched as yet another chain store passed by. “I don’t remember half of this crap.”  


“Yes, it has.”  


“Hey! Is there still a park on Massachusetts street? The one with the pool?” Dean looked over at James, a light in his eyes.  


James Novak nodded and a small smile flitted across his lips. “Yes, there is. The South Park Wading Pool.” Dean noticed the man’s shoulders relax a little as he spoke. Never one to leave a scab alone, Dean poked a little farther.  


“My mom used to take me there when I was little. One time I was playing hide and seek with my mom and I got lost. Man, that was scary.” Dean shook his head with a fond smile.  


“I used to take Claire there when she was little.” James remarked, surprising Dean by sounding more than just standoffish.  


“Oh yeah? Is it as cool as I remember it?”  


“Yes, I believe so. They’ve got the pool and the gazeebo and all that space to run about. Claire loved it.”  


“Hey, where is Claire? I remember Amelia said she was gone.” Dean dragged a nail along the rough fabric of his jeans, itching for something to do with his hands.  


“She’s with Amelia’s parents. She stays with them for a few weeks every summer. They live in Florida, and we don’t get much of a chance to visit them.”  


“You must miss her.”  


“I do. Very much so. She’s always happy to stay with her grandparents, but it’s hard. She’s… a wonderful child.”  


Dean watched as James’ expression changed from passive to warm, his eyes sparkling with fondness. It was an amazing transformation. _He’s… kinda cute like this._ Dean fought down that thought, refusing to ogle his married neighbour. He wasn’t that fucking pathetic. Not yet, at least. “You two’re pretty close?”  


“Yes, we were. When Amelia told me she was pregnant I was… terrified I wasn’t going to be able to handle being a father, but when she was born… I knew everything would be all right.”  


Dean nodded, enjoying the new side of his companion. “I can’t imagine having a kid. That’s… a lot of commitment.”  


“It is, but it’s worth it. It’s hard to let them go… I still remember getting her nursery ready. Amelia and I picked out the colours and we both tried to paint it, but the fumes made her sick, so I did it all. And suddenly she’d out grown the teddy bear trim and the rabbit sheets and the owl pillows.” There was a melancholy tone to the man’s voice, a tone that evoked something deep within Dean’s soul; something that made the younger man feel uncomfortably raw.  


“Lucky kid! Man, I always wanted to have my own room.” He shifted the conversation about, grasping the door. “My mom…. After she died we moved around a lot. Me ‘n’ Sammy lived out of hotels and slept in sleeping bags on dad’s friends’ living room floors.”  


James nodded, his lips pursed together. “I understand – not the moving around part, but the not having any space. I grew up the youngest of eleven children. We lived in a four-bedroom house. I shared a bedroom with two other siblings growing up.”  


“Wow! God, I can’t even imagine that. How was it? I mean… that’s a huge-ass family!” Dean cried out, his eyes wide, his freckled cheeks rounding a little as his lips stretched into a smile.  


“Apart from the lack of privacy, I loved it. The only real downside was not being able to get to know them as well as I would have liked.”  


And there it was. Dean was itching to pick again. Ambiguous endings like that made Dean want to dig deeper, find out more. He wanted to poke and poke until the wound was raw and bloody. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself against the barrage of questions that were trying to force their way up his throat.  


So they road in silence for the rest of the trip, Dean steadfastly looking out the window, holding back the queries that so desperately wanted to spring forth. James – Jimmy – interested him. He was different from anyone else Dean had ever met, and Dean had assumed he’d met them all.  


They pulled up in front of a small mom and pop home improvement store. As soon as Dean got out of the car he felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead. It was as hot as hell outside, and all he wanted to do was crawl back inside the air-conditioned car. “Goddamn!” he breathed, tugging the shirt away from his chest and flapping it a little. The two men hurried inside and as the glass door shut behind him, Dean let out a sigh of relief. “God bless air conditioning. Whoever invented it was a fuckin’ saint.” He shook himself and grinned over at James. “So, Jimmy, let’s get this shit done, huh?”  


James gave him a mildly disapproving look, but nodded in agreement. “I’ll see if Cary has the power washer.” With that he took off and left Dean to his own devices.  


Dean wandered around the small store, picking up various things he’d need. He didn’t see paint swatches anywhere, but he wasn’t entirely sure that this tiny operation would have paint.  


Ten minutes later James turned up behind him. “They still have it, and they’ll give you a discount.” He said, startling Dean and making him drop the bottle of silicone sealant whose label he was reading.  


“God DAMN it, man! I need to put a bell on you or somethin’, man, because you scared the shit out of me.” He grabbed the bottle and put it back on the shelf, his heart still pounding loudly in his chest. “Jesus. Okay. So… power washer is a-go. Is there anything else I need from here?”  


“You can get the paint and basic supplies here.” James assured him, quirking an eyebrow.  


“Okay, sweet. Lead on.” Dean grinned and followed along behind him, listening to the man list of the things they were going to need.  


James was so wrapped up in selecting things that he didn’t notice Dean slip away from him. Dean giggled quietly to himself as he found a hex key and a wrench. Picking the two items up he held the hex key to his lip and the wrench like a gun and silently slipped behind James. “Stick ‘em up.” He growled, and when the man whirled around and saw him, goofy grin, hex key moustache, wrench gun, he began to waggle his eyebrows.  


It was then that Dean probably should have realised he was in trouble, for James let out a surprised chuckle, his eyes narrowing with laughter as he shook his head at Dean’s antics. Instead, though, Dean just gave him a shit-eating smirk and lowered the tools. “Hey! You can laugh!” He clapped James on the shoulder and sighed happily. “My work here is done. I’ll just put these back and we can get going.” He hurried away and set them down haphazardly, eager to return to his companion.  


They got everything they needed in under twenty minutes, and soon had it all loaded in the back of James’ truck and were heading back to the house. They talked on and off for the twenty minute car ride, mainly about what to do once they got started on the house. Dean found himself enjoying the man’s company, despite his lack of conversation. He was beginning to realise that James didn’t like him, he was just not generally very good with socializing.  


It was close to three by the time they got back, and the weather had gotten hotter, though Dean hadn’t thought it was possible. “Are you sure you wanna work outside right now?” He asked, unloading the stuff inside his house.  


“It won’t be bad with the power washer.” James said, shrugging and helping Dean pull it down. “We can get that done and then take a break to work on getting the wood cleaned off.  


Dean didn’t bother pointing out that it was a one man job to operate the damn thing, and instead watched as James began hooking it up and getting it ready. He went about laying down tarps around the areas that they were washing, just in case. Finally, when they were done with the prep work, James turned it on and Dean aimed it at the side of the house.  


They took turns using the pressure washer until the outside of the house was clean. It looked drastically different, the paint had chipped mostly away, leaving the place looking like a child had gone over it with an eraser, leaving chunks of paint still intact. All in all it took the two men a few hours to get it done, so that by the time everything was finished, the tarps taken away and the paint mostly chipped off, it was nearly seven o’clock.  


James looked down at his watch and sighed, rubbing his hands on his damp jeans. “I’d better go. Amelia will have dinner ready.”  


Dean nodded and held his hand out, taking James’ left in his right. “Hey, thanks.” He said, pumping the hand a few times before letting it drop. “This really helped. You sure as hell know a lot more about this shit than I do.”  


“I… could come over tomorrow morning and help seal any cracks if you’d like.” James offered. “And then I’ll help paint.”  


“That’d…. that’d be really great, actually. Yeah. Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” Dean waved the older man away and shook his head, sighing to himself. So James didn’t hate him, and he wasn’t an ass. Good to know. Dean snickered softly and began to work over the cracks in the wood with caulk.  


Despite the seeming tedium of the work, Dean found it cathartic, and became so engrossed in the task at hand that he didn’t stop until it got too dark out to see. When he looked at his phone he realised it was almost ten o’clock. He hadn’t had a drink in… several hours, his back was aching from crouching, and he was as hungry as hell.  


Strangely enough, Dean didn’t feel like drinking himself into a stupor that night. Instead he ordered pizza and finished his episode of Dr Sexy MD while eating. Afterwards he felt very much like showering. Oh, fuck, a shower would be so good. He hadn’t had one in a few days, and is whole body felt grimy and sweaty.  


The water pressure in his shower was… perfect. Dean found himself relaxing as water splattered against ceramic, flimsy clear plastic film, and flesh. He closed his eyes and let out a groan, leaning toward one side of the shower. “Mmmm…” he sighed, running a hand up his freckled chest. There was something so very good about showering after a long, hard day of work. Water fell in torrents down his shoulders, rolling off his thick legs, his eyes shut tight against the onslaught. As each overworked muscle in his body began to relax, Dean felt one part rise to attention. He cracked one green orb open and groaned, shaking his head. “I need to get laid.” He muttered darkly, shuddering as the hot water hit his half-hard cock.  


With a low moan, Dean gave into the more base urges that had been desperately screaming at him for the past month. This wasn’t so bad. It’d have to do until he had enough time to find the nearest bar and the easiest lay.  


As he ran a hand over his dick, a hazy image of dark, deep set, ridiculously droopy blue eyes came into view, and he could hear a low chuckle over the spattering of shower water. “F…fuck.” He gasped, taking an involuntary step backwards, his shoulders hitting the wall with a thud as he wrapped his hand around the hard length and began stroking.  


Steam clouded the stall as Dean’s heart quickened, his muscles twitching with pleasure. Ghost hands traced down his abdomen as he imagined Lisa pushing up against him, cerulean irises, deep and filled with a quiet hunger…. Voice gruff, deep, almost a growl as he…  


With a sharp moan, Dean came into his hand, his chest heaving. He stood there, loose kneed and overwhelmed. “Oh god…” he whispered, swallowing hard. “I am that fucking pathetic...”


	7. Vienna

That night was the second night James caused Dean to lose sleep. He tried desperately to quiet his mind, to close his eyes and keep them closed, but his brain plugged away feverishly, his eyes continued to pop open; Dean was unable to stop thinking his visceral reaction in the shower.  


It was three before Dean finally gave up the ghost and got out of bed. He stretched his arms with a heavy sigh and began digging through the boxes he and Sam had stacked up near the stairs. A few moments later he found what he was looking for – a gas lantern his dad had given him years ago to use during their hunting trips. It had been packed away in a box labelled junk.  


Hauling it outside with a grunt, Dean tried turning it on before realising it was out of fuel. It was about ten minutes after that – after cursing and nearly kicking the thing across the porch – that he remembered the porch light. Thunking his head against the wall, Dean stepped inside and turned it on, his freckled nose wrinkled as he continued to berate himself for being so fucking stupid.  


It was about 3:50 by the time he had everything situated and sorted out, and then he began filling in the cracks and gaps that had been revealed during the wash. Working was good. Work kept the hands busy and the brain occupied. Some days it was all Dean could do to just not THINK. He worked and he drank and tried desperately not to recall all the mistakes he’d made. That night was no different, except instead of mistakes, Dean was trying to put James Novak out of his mind.  


As the light slowly turned upwards, the sky transitioning from midnight to purple, pink, then finally, light blue, Dean worked on, only setting his brush down when his stomach growled. He looked down at his stomach and glaring as it made another loud, impossible to ignore rumble. He pulled his gloves off, making sure not to get the sticky caulk on any part of his body. There were a few seconds of hesitation as Dean debated whether or not to take off the flannel shirt he’d donned to stave off the morning chill. He decided, in the end, to leave it on the porch. It was going to be another too-hot day. He’d probably die of heat stroke if he wore it. His stomach let out yet another loud noise and he rolled his eyes. “Jesus! All right!” Exclaimed the irritated young man, gnawing on his lip.  


Dean peered up at the sky, at the sun already burning the morning mist, and with a little hiss, he headed toward his Baby, rubbing an over worked shoulder.  


His favourite diner was just a fifteen minute drive from his house, which meant an easy drive before settling down to pig out. He turned the radio on, smiling as a familiar song began playing. Today was going to be all right.  


As predicted, the drive was uneventful, despite the exhaustion trying to settle itself on his lids. He hummed along to the songs until he was able to swing into the nearest parking spot.  


Inside the little shop was warm and bustling. It smelled like burgers, like eggs, bacon, and, best of all, pie. Already Dean loved this place. It was inviting and cheery, the walls painted in green and white stripes, the floor tiled in white with the odd lime coloured square every so often. The staff was always prompt and friendly, and Dean had already decided it was going to be a regular haunt.  


He settled in a booth and picked up one of the laminated menus resting between the ketchup and syrup. It took him less than a minute to decide what he wanted, so when the server showed up next to him he was all ready. He ordered fried chicken and waffles with a side of bacon and eggs (sunny side up), and a cup of very strong black coffee. If Sam had been there he would have chided his older brother for the artery clogging breakfast. Dean smiled at the thought, then it faltered a little. He wondered if he’d made the right choice moving to Lawrence. Should he have moved to California to be closer to Sam? After all, Sam wanted kids, and it would kill Dean if he didn’t get to know his future nieces and nephews. But if he’d done that he wouldn’t have met James Novak and his unsettling brand of attractiveness. “Jesus.” Dean dug the heels of his hands into his red rimmed eyes. It would not have been a bad thing if he hadn’t met James Novak. They were barely friends. And now that Dean had thought about the striking blue eyes and the gravely voice, he was reminded of what had transpired the previous nights. The young man took several deep, slow breaths, calming himself down. So what if he’d jerked off and happened to think of his married next door neighbour for a FEW seconds at the same time. It wasn’t as if he had a crush. It wasn’t as if he was going to get in his pants – or even try!! Dean snorted at the thought. It was amusing when he actually took the time to think it over rationally. There was way anything would ever happen, despite the one sided attraction. James wasn’t gay and was VERY married. He even had a daughter! Dean chuckled to himself, and shook his head. He was being a stupid dick getting himself all worked up over nothing.  


When the meal arrived it saw Dean in a much better mood than when it had been ordered. He thanked the woman who brought it and immediately dug into the meal. While eating, Dean concentrated on all the things he needed to get done before next spring. He had to get the entire house renovated by himself in a matter or months or so. Plus work. And looking for a shop for his own mechanical related endeavours. First thing was first, though. He had to get the house looking good. Thank god the plumbing and electrical systems were all in working order, otherwise Dean would have given it up as a lost cause. Even now he was still not sure he alone would get everything done in such a short amount of time. Unless, of course, he begged Benny for help. Dean licked his lips and nodded, his heart slowing a little. Benny’d help him. And, hell, wasn't Charlie in Topeka for a few months?  


Plans began to form in the Winchester’s head, and soon he finished his food and was on his way home.  
He was so cheerful and hopped up on caffeine that he forgot about the late night wank he’d had. In fact he wasn’t reminded of it at all until he was unlocking his door. He was humming to himself, turning the key in the lock, when he heard a familiar voice. The low, gruff, almost raspy notes sent disconcerting flutters straight to Dean’s gut. He turned around slowly and saw James Novak standing near the white fence separating their houses. He’d recently showered, Dean could see the droplets of water gathering along his hair, and was wearing a pair of slightly too big jeans and a shirt that actually fit well – even if it was speckled with stains and paint.  


“What?” Dean heard himself ask.  


“I said, Amelia sent me out here to see if you needed any help, seeing as I got one of my jobs finished last night.”  


“Oh. Uh… uh.. yeah, yeah, that’d be fine.” Dean managed a smile and beckoned James forward. “I’m, uh, just about to start again.”  


“I see you weren’t able to sleep last night, either.” James said, crossing the distance between them.  


“What? Yeah I was! I never…” Dean trailed off, flushing a little. “What, uh, what makes you say that?” He began again, cursing silently to himself.  


“I noticed the porch light on this morning at five, and I see you’ve already made quite a lot of headway.” He gestured toward the front of the house, a peculiar look on his face.  


“Oh, uh, yeah. Man, I can’t sleep most nights, so last night wasn’t any different. I just wanted to get my mind off… stuff.”

Dean fidgeted a little, realised they were both still standing outside, then finished unlocking his door. “Here, come in. I gotta put my shit up and then we can get started.” The two men walked inside, not saying much, both preoccupied with their own thoughts.  


Dean dropped his keys off by the door and his mobile and wallet near the air mattress, unaware of the keen gaze focused on his back.  


James, for his part, was questioning why he wasn’t putting up more of a fight when it came to spending time with Dean Winchester.  


Despite all his misgivings, he had enjoyed the time with his unwitting tempter, so when Amelia had asked him if he was helping Dean again that day, he’d said yes with almost no thoughts as to the consequences. Perhaps it was just because of last night, when James had looked out the kitchen window on a whim and had seen Dean dedicatedly caulking patches of wood, a determined look on his freckled face. James realised he was beginning to see his neighbour in more of a human light. He knew he was being dramatic when he’d thought God had sent Dean here to tempt him or to punish him. James was awash with shame when he thought of how rude he’d been to Dean just because of the phantom attraction. Dean just happened to be handsome, which was why, when he bent over, James was definitely not watching. He did not notice how the denim stretched taught over the swell of his… James cleared his throat and dragged himself around. “There’s quite a lot of work to be done.” He remarked, looking at the cracked floral wallpaper with some measure of distaste.  


“Now, if that isn’t the understatement of the year, I don’t know what is.” He heard Dean reply with a half laugh.  


James licked his lips and nodded, trying to ignore the way the laugh had burrowed beneath his skin.  


“But, hey,” Dean was saying, scratching an arm and heading toward the door. “I’ll get it done. Love me a good challenge.”  


James nodded, no doubt in his mind as to the truth of that statement. He trailed after the younger man, taking care not to watch the way Dean moved when he walked.  


Sunlight streamed down on the two men despite it still being late morning. They both got to work, studiously not thinking of the other. James didn’t watch as Dean climbed the ladder, his knees pulling up, stretching the jeans and bringing them taught against his backside. Dean did not watch as James’ arms flexed, as he stopped every so often to pull the fabric away from his chest and used it to fan his sweat slicked skin.  


The house wasn’t in as bad shame as it had first appeared. James and Dean were making excellent progress. They both took turns climbing the ladder to get the hard to reach areas while the other tackled the bottom. Dean continuously complained that it was so hot even Jesus would be swimming in sweat, to which James would frown disapprovingly.  


“Lighten up, man.” Dean laughed, putting down his brush and picking up the hose. “’m not trying to be disrespectful or nothing.” He promised, turning the knob and stepping back as hot water gushed over the pavement. “I got nothing against religion. My mom was Catholic, you know, and she was the best person I ever knew.”  


James watched in partial dismay, partial eagerness as Dean slowly lifted the hose and turned it on himself, spraying his hair and chest with a moan of relief. His lids closed as the water washed over his hair, glistening off the freckles covering the tanned flesh. His teeth sunk into his lower lip as the chilled water hit the back of his neck, and James had to turn around quickly when he saw Dean’s body shudder in an almost obscene fashion. When he finally gathered up the nerve to turn around, he saw the young man stripping his shirt off, revealing a tanned, ridiculously perfect chest. He tried and failed to look away again, for he spotted a string of words running down Dean’s left side. James squinted a little, peering intently at the phrase. It looked to be in Latin. _Prefer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim._ James wanted to ask what it meant, but was distracted by the art adorning Dean’s shoulders, amazed at how they had been so easily hidden before. He felt eyes on him and glanced up to find Dean watching him curiously. “Sorry.” He muttered, guiltily. “I… have never seen that many tattoos in person. Up close.”  


Dean grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “No sweat. My girl does good work.” He scratched the back of his neck, shifting from one foot to another. “Does…. Uh…. Does it bother you?”  


James shook his head, returning the grin with a tentative one of his own. “No, it certainly does not. I find them…. Beautiful.”  


Dean turned a spectacular shade of crimson and let out an embarrassed laugh. “Well! If I’d known that I’d have gone shirtless before.”  


“They’re very well hidden. I wouldn't have known you had them.” James said, resisting the urge to draw a hand down one of the shoulders.  


“Oh, uh, yeah. Well, I never got any that couldn’t be hidden by a t-shirt. Not a whole lot of jobs allowed tattoos. At least not when I was growing up.” He made a face and looked up at the old Victorian house. “And I just never got any more. Didn’t really have a reason to. Nothing that meant enough.” He looked down at his arms a little distantly, as though not seeing them, his green eyes staring past the flesh and bone to a memory not visible to James. Several drops of water leaked from his hair to the ground, then he looked up, blinking rapidly. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again. “Water.” He explained, rolling his eyes.  


James turned around abruptly and cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to work.” He grunted. “We’re almost done with this sticky mess.” He looked down at the caulk, his lips twisting in mild irritation.  


“Yeah,” Dean picked up a new pair of disposable gloves. “I didn’t realise how sticky this shit was until last night. I went out and bought these this morning.”  


James paused a moment to imagine Dean covered in the sticky substance, white and dripping down his hands, his face, his… The brunette grabbed his tools and began working again, his arms fairly flying as he furiously attacked the blemishes.  


Dean gave him a slightly bemused look, then turned around to his own tasks.  


Five o’clock rolled around by the time they finished, and Amelia had to call her husband home. They’d been so engrossed with the work that they’d lost sense of all time.  


James turned to the still shirtless Dean and cocked his head. “Will you need my help tomorrow?”  


“Nah, I gotta get to the shop tomorrow. It’s my first official day, so Benny’s gonna run me through the ringer. But… 

Wednesday, maybe?” Dean’s voice was a little hesitant as he shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with the request.  


“I’ll be here first thing Wednesday morning.” James replied seriously.  


“Ok.” Dean smiled, stripping his gloves off and sticking a hand out. “It’s a deal.”  


James nodded and accepted the hand.  


“Thanks, man. I… really owe you one.”  


There was a quiet moment, then James nodded again. “Wednesday, then.”  


“Yeah, Wednesday.”  


The two parted ways. Dean walked back to his house with a silly grin on his face. Perhaps having a neighbour wasn’t so bad. And so what if the guy happened to be hot! Wait… hot? More like… startlingly handsome? Just handsome? Dean shook his head and smiled again. He was over thinking things. That was it. So James was hot. Dean’d met hundreds of hot people before. He chuckled to himself and threw the bottle of caulk into the air, catching it neatly on its descent. James was an all right guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Vienna by Billy Joel, and I am so sorry for the lapse between updates. My computer situation is a little complicated right now, and will be for another few weeks. Still, I have three or four chapters written out on paper. They just need to be typed up, so when I am able to start updating more, it will be consistent!


	8. Little Lion Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. I am so sorry for taking so bloody long getting this damn chapter out. I'm sorry it's so short, but my computer issues have been resolved and since I have most of the fic written up in my trusty brown binder, I shall type it up and the chapters shall be consistently updated once a week!

“He’s got these crazy fuckin’ blue eyes. I’d almost think he was wearing colour contacts or something.” Dean wiped the grease off his right hand, rubbing it absentmindedly on the leg of his jeans before carefully closing the bonnet of a bright orange ’05 Ford Focus. One of the oil feeds hadn’t been put in properly, fucking the engine over. The owner had probably taken it to some run of the mill auto repair shop and some teenager with spots had probably rummaged through her insides, messing her worse than when she’d been brought in. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “But he’s so Goddamn weird. He doesn’t smoke or drink or swear, and I swear to God he doesn’t get ANY references. No Lord of the Rings, no Star Wars, no Simpsons, no nothing! I don’t even think he’s seen Ghostbusters! C’mon, man! Tell me that’s not fucked up!” He looked over at his best friend Benny Laffite, expecting a look of abject horror and shock on his face, but instead he got the usual poker face. “I mean, who doesn’t know Ghostbusters?”  


Benny rolled his eyes, pushing an oil rag into Dean’s hands. The conversation had been running on for an hour, and it had been all about James Novak, directed and spoken by Dean. Honestly it looked like Benny was getting ready to kick him out of the shop if he went on any further about his newfound neighbour.  


“Sounds like you’re having a good time, brother.” Benny drawled, picking up a lukewarm mug of coffee and turning it around so that he did not drink from the chipped side, his Creole accent emphasising the boredom. “You must really like him.”  


Dean looked up sharply, regarding his friend with some care. Sometimes it was hard to get a on the man. Back in the day, Benny had been a formidable card shark and pool hustler. That was how they’d met, in fact, and since then Dean had found out that his friend could maintain one helluva poker face. “I don’t really care either way,” Dean shrugged and took the cup from Benny, draining it. “He’s just a nice guy, you know?”  


Benny grunted and shook his head. “Glad to hear you’re getting along with your neighbour.”  


“You can meet him, you know.” Dean said with a grin, his glass green eyes sparkling with anticipation and mischief. He’d love to see how Jimmy Novak’d handle Benny.  


His friend raised an eyebrow and grunted again, looking pointedly at the empty coffee mug Dean had given him back. “Will he be helping Saturday?”  


“Maybe. He’s at home most days, I think. He works from home. Something about computers and English. I don’t really remember.”  


“Mmm… well, I’ll meet him if he does.”  


“I really… thanks, man.” Dean raised his gaze to meet Benny’s. He owed his friend so damn much. It was all thanks to Benny that he could do all that he was in the first place, and now the man was going to help him renovate the house? Dean felt guilty for accepting the help in the first place. He didn’t fucking deserve this.  


Benny gave him a smile and shook his head. “Don’t think twice on it.” He rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder for a moment before leaving the room with a “make sure that car gets fixed”.  


\---  


"I’m so glad you and Dean are getting along so well.” Amelia sat down at the dinner table, setting her glass of water beside her plate. “I told you it would work out.” She beamed across the table at her husband.  


James nodded, feeling positively miserable. He hadn’t meant to get so close. The real trouble was that Amelia HAD been right – he was genuinely beginning to like Dean Winchester as a person. Dean was quick to smile and always had a comeback on his lips. He was no longer just the handsome next door neighbour, he was Dean Winchester: mechanic, handyman, smart alec. He was driven, devoted, and family oriented. “I said I would go over tomorrow and help him paint the house. IT should take more than a day or two to get that done.”  


Amelia smiled happily and nodded as she finished up her dinner. “Invite him for dinner this Sunday, okay? I’d love to get to know him better, too.”  


James nodded, his fingers itching to reach for the window curtain, his feet longing to take him to the door, to see whether Dean was home yet. He pursed his lips together and steadfastly began feeding himself.  


Moments later he heard the now familiar rumble of Dean’s Impala and his fork stalled. He looked up at his wife, a hooded expression haunting his sleep deprived face. She was already clearing the dishes away, not paying him any mind. She was talking about some function at church, about a meeting for the fundraiser for something – to be honest James wasn’t paying much attention, so focused was he on the desire to talk to Dean.  


“James.”  


James blinked up at her, clearing his throat. “Yes?”  


“Are you okay? You seem… distant.”  


“Yes, I’m fine, I was just thinking about…. Work.”  


“Oh, I understand. Will you be up soon?” She asked, meeting his gaze with a tired smile.  


“Probably not.” He admitted, staving off the usual guilt.  


Amelia didn’t seem to notice, instead she set the dishes she was holding back on the table. “Do you think you could take care of these, then? I’ve got to be up at six tomorrow morning, and I’m tired.”  


“Of course I will.” James frowned a little, confused at the question. He would often clean up after Amelia cooked, or at least try to. His wife often shooed him out of the kitchen, saying that it was easier for her to get it done.  


“Thanks, Jimmy.” She crossed the table and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I won’t be back until tomorrow night. The ladies want to go out for dinner after church.”  


James’ heart ached at the distance in her tone, at the resignation in her kiss. He knew she wanted more, he knew she wanted to make him happy, to give him satisfaction, but he… he couldn’t do that. Lately he felt her pulling away from him, just as he was pulling away from her. There was a chasm between them, and neither knew what to do about it. James knew in his heart that it could not be healed in the way Amelia wanted it. He could not give her what she needed.  


“Goodnight, dear.” He heard her say, and he had to look away, unable to bear the flat phrase.  


“Goodnight.”  


He waited several minutes, berating himself, warring with himself. James Novak was only human, a poor, imperfect human, a sinner. He could not be as holy as an angel, as trusting as a seraph, he was naught but flesh and blood, and that side won over. He headed toward the door, vague ideas and excuses about why he needed to step outside, none of them including Dean. He closed the door quietly behind him, standing in the middle of his porch.  


A figure was hunched in the front seat of the Impala, but before James could wonder what was going on, he saw the car door open and heard Dean’s voice drift across the lawn, low and frustrated.  


“Look, no, I’m not gonna change Sam’s mind.” He was saying as he rubbed a hand across his face. “He’s… you know you ‘n’ him only butt heads when you’re around one another.” His footsteps were heavy on the front stairs. The porch light turned on, sensing the motion as Dean made his way to the front door.  


Even from such a distance James could see he was exhausted. His broad shoulders, usually held high and proud, were slumped under an invisible weight, his head low.  


The conversation continued, Dean paused for a moment, listening to whoever was on the other end before snapping. “It’s not my fault you haven’t met his fiancée. Hey. That’s not… what does that even matter, anyhow? Dad, why don’t you just call him? You’ve got his number.” Another pause. Dean stopped outside the door, one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other hanging limply at his side. “I’m not Sam’s parent, you are. I gotta go, anyway. Benny and I gotta be at the shop early tomorrow. Yeah. Yeah. Uh huh. Talk to you later.”  


James watched as Dean put the phone in his back pocket, kicking savagely at the door before unlocking it. The evening night was chilly as James stood there, rooted to the spot in thought. Speculation plagued him as he cleaned the dishes, it continued to dog him even when he sat down in front of his desk to work. Dean was such a curious fellow. James hardly knew how to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons. Things are starting to get deep from here on. I told you all that it was a slow burn (at least I think I did), so, fair warning, the burn is coming.


	9. One More Time With Feeling

The morning dawned early. Dean woke up with a hangover and a weight in his stomach. The weight didn’t disappear even after he hurled all of his stomach’s contents into the toilet, narrowly missing the newly tiled floor. He washed his face and groaned, blinking at his reflection. “You fuck ugly bastard.” He murmured, turning his face from the image of red rimmed eyes, gaunt cheeks, and unkempt hair. What a fucking pathetic loser. One conversation with his father and he felt like he was a child again. Taking orders. Getting berated. Sam was right about him, he had no spine. A yes man all the fucking way. All those years of rebellion had meant nothing. In the end he jumped when told. Dean resisted the urge to punch out his mirror and instead went in search of something to drown his sorrows in.  


A dull pounding sound lit the air, and it took a few seconds for Dean to realise it was coming from the front door and not his head… well, not JUST his head.  


"Just a sec!” He hollered, shuffling to the pile of not-so-clean clothing that had collected by his bed since Sam’s absence. After he pulled on a shirt and jeans – making himself more or less decent – he trudged to the door. If it was one of those door to door Jehovah’s Witnesses or fucking whatever the hell kind of recruiting Christian religion trying to bring Jesus into his life he was going to slam the door in their face.  


He pulled the door open a half an inch, just enough to see outside, linked twice, then opened it all the way. “James, man! I completely forgot that you were comin’ over today!”  


James furrowed his brow, looking back at his own home uncertainly. “Should I… come back later?” He asked dubiously.  


“No! No, no. Come on in. You want some coffee?” Dean ushered him into the house and headed down the hall to the kitchen doorway, his hand sliding along the cracked wallpaper, fingers memorizing every tear and peel.  


There was a little plastic folding table set up in the kitchen with a coffee pot, a stack of disposable coffee cups and plates and a toaster. On the floor near an outlet was a mini fridge with a microwave on top of that. He absentmindedly began picking up some of the old wrappers and cups lying about, slightly self-conscious about the mess. “It’s kind of… a pig sty in here right now. I gotta get this done sooner than later, though. Gotta get some counters and a stove and the rest.” He waved vaguely at the gutted room and at the cleaned, newly plastered walls. It was an expensive renovation, but Dean had saved money all his life, and what with the less savoury sources of income, he had a tidy sum in a few different bank accounts. Perhaps some of the money was ill-gotten, but he’d never taken it from people who actually needed it, so if he was going to hell, at least he knew it wasn’t for being a complete dick, and, hey, if there was a God up there he’d know that Dean had done what he had to in order to survive.  


Sniffing at the leftover coffee, Dean shrugged and poured it into one of the travel mugs, trying not to get ruffled by James’ silent observations. “I got creamer in the fridge.” He said, stooping down and yanking out a half empty bottle of some peppermint flavoured concoction.  


James poured himself some coffee but politely refused the creamer, choosing to drink the somewhat stale beverage black.  


“Sorry, the coffee’s a bit old.” Dean muttered, glancing sidelong at his companion, who shrugged.  


“It’s hot and strong, and that’s all that matters.”  


“Glad you agree.” Dean took a swallow of the saccharin liquid and winked a bright eye. “I suppose we should get started, huh?”  


James nodded in agreement, clutching the disposable cup to his chest.  


“I picked up the paint last night after work. Figured it’d be easier that way.” Dean headed out to the porch where he’d set the paint last night before drinking himself to sleep.  


They both got to work, quietly at first, then talking in a slow, halting fashion.  


“How did you and Amelia meet?” Dean asked, painting a horizontal stripe across one of the ancient wooden boards.  


“We’ve known one another since childhood. Our parents went to the same church and we went to the same Bible classes, then to the same schools. She was my best friend. It… seemed only natural to take the next step.”  


“Oh.” Dean nodded to himself and dipped the paintbrush in the robin’s egg blue paint. “That’s… uh, that’s pretty cool. You know who you wanna be with right from the beginning. No fuckin’ around.” He waited for an answer, but got nothing more than a non-committal grunt. When he looked sidelong at his silent neighbour he saw the man looking intently at the plan he was washing with paint. Dean narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I mean… there were a few people I thought, you know ‘they’re the one’, but nothing like what you ‘n’ Amelia seem to have.” He paused his painting for a moment to finish the now stone cold coffee that had been sitting by his feet for the past few hours, forgotten until just then.  


“Weren’t you engaged?” James asked, still not looking at Dean.  


“Yeah, but that didn’t work out.”  


“Oh.”  


“Yeah.”  


They painted in silence for the next half hour before Dean grew tired of the tension. “So… Claire, when’s she coming back?” He asked, glancing over at James and smiling a little as he saw the transformation take place on his companion’s face.  


When James spoke of his daughter a weight seemed to be lifted from his back. He stood straighter and his deep blue eyes seemed less world-worn. “She’s coming back in August before school starts. It’ll be about a month before Amelia goes to pick her up.”  


“You’re not going with her?”  


“No, I can’t make it this year. I have too much going on. Next month is going to be very busy for me, and Amelia plans on staying out there three weeks. I do wish I could, but Amelia will have a good time visiting her parents. She hasn’t seen them in a year.”  


Dean’s expression softened a little and he got back to work, grinning to himself. James seemed like he was just about as perfect a husband as anyone could ask for. _Way better than I would have been._ He looked down at his watch, then up at James. “Hey, you hungry?” His stomach chose that moment to growl. “Let’s go get lunch. It’s already after 1.”James hesitated, but Dean flashed him a dazzling smile. “C’mon, my treat. It’s the least I can do for all the help.”  


“All… right then.” James mumbled, putting his paintbrush up as well.  


“Ok! Let’s get this cleaned up and go.”  


They cleaned their supplies up and, before either of them got into the Impala, Dean made sure they didn’t have any wet paint anywhere on their clothing; they didn’t, so it was all good.  


Inside the car was hot and arid, the leather had sat soaking up the sun for the better part of the day. Dean still needed to get all his crap out of the garage so he could put his baby inside. Until then, though, he was seriously considering buying a damn sunscreen thing. “So… anywhere you wanna go? I’m game for anything as long as it doesn’t have a dress code.” He flashed James a smile and rested his foot on the brake pedal.  


“I don’t…. anywhere is fine.”  


Dean shrugged and put the car in reverse. “Okay, DQ it is.” He got about a block down the road before he paused at a stop sign and turned to face James. “But, uh, your gonna hafta tell me which way to go, because I got no clue.”  


James smiled a little and nodded “Keep going.”  


The Dairy Queen wasn’t that far from their homes, which Dean was thankful for. He eased the vehicle into an empty parking bay and opened his door. It took him a few seconds to realise Mr Blue Fucking Eyes wasn’t following suit. “What’s up?” He asked, one foot planted on asphalt and one resting on the floor of his baby.  


“Oh, nothing.” James relied, unbuckling himself. “I just… normally when we go here we go to the drive thru.”  


Dean laughed a little and shook his head. “Oooh no. No one is eating in Baby. Especially not greasy foods that could stain her seats or get on the dash.” He rubbed a hand lovingly over the steering wheel. “That’s right, Baby, no one’s gonna get you gross and dirty.” He crooned, his full lips turned up at the corners.  


\---  


Dean’s walk was slightly bowlegged, James noticed. His hips swayed just a little, just enough to give the onlooker a taste of what they might be capable of, given the right situation. James licked his lips and picked up the pace, his heart pounding rapidly.  


Inside was fairly packed, but Dean found them a little booth. They ordered and James stared in wonder at the sheer amount of food Dean got. Two orders of fries, a cookie dough blizzard, a drink, and a double bacon and cheese flameburger and a large order of onion rings to top it all off.  


When they sat down Dean flashed him a smile and leaned back in their booth. James watched his expressions change as he began to speak. It was only seconds later that he realized Dean was waiting for an answer. “What?” He blinked, pulling himself away from his more sinful thoughts.  


Dean rolled his glass green eyes sand set the drink down. “Nothing, man, you just looked like you were far away.”  


James stared down at his napkin, then raised his own drink to his lips, sucking at the straw. “Not really, I was just wondering about… you. You said you moved away when you were young. Did your father get a job somewhere?”  


Dean shook his head. “Nah, my mom died when I was little and dad, well… he didn’t want to live here anymore.”  


“Oh.”  


There was a heavy silence, broken only by one of the employees bringing them their food.  


Dean began wolfing down the burger, alternately stuffing his face with fries and onion rings, despite the fact that they were fresh out of the fryer. James, by contrast, took small bites, feeling a little guilty. He didn’t even know why. He hadn’t asked a malicious question, and yet he could sense a wall around Dean that hadn’t been there before. He looked down at his burger and made a face.  


“We lived in South Dakota for a while. Stayed with a friend of the family – Bobby Singer.” Dean explained, his tone light. “Man, Bobby… he’s great. Taught me everything I know about cars.” The younger man chuckled and shook his head. “He’s… he’s a really great guy. Always callin’ in to check on us. Makin’ sure we’re stayin’ outta trouble.”  


“I suppose that means you got into your fair share.” James replied dryly, lifting an eyebrow. When Dean gave him a mischievous grin, his teeth flashing in the fluorescent lighting it was all James could do not to burst out laughing.  


“Naaah, I was a perfect angel.” Dean chirped, winking salaciously.  


James took a sip from his straw, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “I doubt it.”  


Dean picked at a French fry and flicked a piece at James’ forehead, snickering a little as he touched his head and looked up sharply. His brow furrowed as he tried to stare Dean down, but the younger man just gave him a cheeky grin and took a bite of his burger as though he’d done nothing wrong.  


James waited for a few seconds before turning back to his own food. He waited some more before taking a bite, but there were no other bits lobbed at him.  


“My father wasn’t a present figure after my mother died, either.” James didn’t know why he said it. Honestly, he was really just thinking aloud, but as soon as the words entered reality, he knew that they had been a mistake.  


“What do you mean?” His companion’s head jerked up, eyes narrowed slightly. “My dad was plenty present.” He grabbed his tray and stood up abruptly. “C’mon. It’s late.”  


James’ lips pursed together, confused at the brusque behaviour. He noticed the untouched blizzard and carefully picked it up, following the taller man. “Dean, did I say something wrong?” He cocked his head, holding the saccharine drink at the angry individual.  


Dean blinked down as the cold plastic touched his bare skin. “No… no, you didn’t say anything. Thanks.” He accepted the cup from his neighbour and gave him a slightly apologetic look.  


A beat passed between them before James shrugged, forgiving Dean’s quick temper. He followed him out the door and into the Impala, keeping mostly silent so as not to tread on any other delicate topics of conversation.  


“My dad travelled around a lot. But… we were with him most of the time.” Dean explained, changing gears and driving away from the fast food joint. “We did stuff together, you know? But there was more to do when we got older. He used to take us hunting sometimes. Me ‘n’ Sam.”  


“Oh. I’ve never been hunting.” Dark blue eyes followed the young man as he carefully maneuvered the car down the quiet streets of Lawrence Kansas.  


“It wasn’t that great.” Dean murmured after a little while, his lips pressed together in a hard line.  


They didn’t speak much more after that. James began to wonder if it was something he’d done or said that had brought on the new cold front.  


Despite the heat they got to work, silently painting the house side by side. An hour crawled with nothing more than a few grunts and a handful of monosyllabic words passing as their conversation. James was beginning to think he had ruined whatever sort of friendship they’d had budding between them, wondering how he would be able to fixed it. He didn’t know what to do – didn’t know if there was anything he could do. Speaking only seemed to irritate his neighbour.  


He was in such dour contemplation that when something cold and wet touched his arm he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked up in shock and saw a light blue streak of paint glancing down his forearm.  


“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to get you.” Dean gave him an apologetic grin before turning back to his side of the building.  


James let it go, sure that it had just been an accident… and then it happened once more, a minute later, this time on his bicep. Dean apologised again, calling himself clumsy, and again, James let it go, though with a little more reticence this time. The third time it happened, though, he was quite sure Dean was doing it on purpose. Plus the way Dean’s shoulders were beginning to shake, his lips struggling to keep steady as he apologised for a third time certainly didn’t help create a picture of innocence.  


James made no noise, his eyes focused on the bit of wall he was currently washing with blue. He waited calmly, his posture giving nothing away. Just as he saw the green eyed man bend down to dip his brush in the wet paint, James made his move. He gripped his brush tightly, stepped to the side, and mad e a long, arching stroke straight down Dean’s back.  


“Hey!” Dean yelped, jumping up and staring at James, his eyes wide.  


“Sorry.” James deadpanned, his expression completely blank. “My hand slipped.”  


Dean gaped at him for a second before his look of disbelief morphed into a devious grin. “You ASShole!” He cried, and before James had a chance to react, he lunged forward and drew his paintbrush down the side of the man’s face.  


It was on after that. Paint went flying every which way as the two men battled it out. James had a look of sharp competition in his cerulean eyes, his brush dripping with paint as he splashed more across Dean’s chest. Dean managed to get his neck, back, and leg before abandoning the brush entirely and just going for it with his hands.  


Names were called and both men laughed like twelve year olds, aiming to get the most paint on the other. It was a complete disaster. Paint covered the ground, splattered over the pavement and drenched the two neighbours, flowing as freely as the laughter and taunts.  


Dean was just about to grab his tray and dump it over James’ head when a voice cut through the laughter.  


“James Castiel Novak!”  


They both jumped, looking guiltily toward the neighbouring house.  


Amelia Novak stood, one eyebrow raised, her lips half quirked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. “What on earth are you doing? If I didn’t know better I’d say I was married to an eight year old.”  


James turned red and he looked towards his feet, mumbling something about how Dean started it, but then he heard a sharp intake of breath beside him. He turned around and saw Dean looking at him, the picture of delight growing on his freckled, paint splattered face.  


“What?” James groused, running a hand through his messy hair.  


“Castiel? Your middle name is Castiel?” It was as though Christmas has come early for the older Winchester brother, a huge, shit-eating grin on his thick lips. But James only felt his heart sink. He knew that look. It was why he hated his full name. Castiel, what an awful name.  


Amelia cleared her throat and smiled. “You should get inside and in the shower before that dries. I’m going again, I just forgot to grab my tablet.” She held up the electronic device and chuckled again. “Don’t get too crazy, kids.”  


Dean gave her a salute. “No Ma’am! We will be very studious and very serious, ma’am!”  


Amelia rolled her eyes, snorting. “Clowns.” She laughed and turned around, heading to her vehicle.  


James picked up the brush he’d discarded moments ago and dipped it back in the paint to keep it wet.  


“Why Castiel?” Dean asked, beginning to clean up the mess.  


“All of my siblings and I were named after angels. It was very important to my mother. I understand that it is a very strange name and I’ve already heard all the insults to be derived from it. It’s an absurd name, I know.” James shoulders tensed as he waited for the mocking reply.  


“Nah,” he heard the man’s voice as though through a tunnel. “I like it. It suits you. It’s different and pretty.”  


James turned around to gape at the man, his blue eyes bugging. “What?!” He demanded, and this time it was Dean’s turn to flush.  


“Yeah, man. You’re… different. An ordinary name like James don’t… doesn’t suit you. Castiel is better. Castiel. Cas. Yeah, Cas.” The young man’s smile was so huge, so brilliantly perfect and unassuming that James had to turn away from it, his heart pounding. Perhaps… perhaps it wasn’t such an awful name after all. It somehow didn’t sound so bad when Dean said it.  


“Do you mind if I call you that?”  


James shrugged. “Call me what you like.”  


“Okay, Cas.”  


James held back a smile. Cas. It wasn’t bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. It took me a little longer than I wanted to get it typed up, and for that I do apologise. Honestly, the weekend was so terribly busy for me. I'm going to try to update every Friday or Saturday from here on out.  
> The song is One More Time With Feeling by Regina Spektor.  
> I hope you all enjoyed it, and FINALLY, FINALLY HE IS CALLED CAAAASSS.


	10. I Don't Know

When they split up the paint had long been dried. Despite the interlude, one side of the house had been fully painted.  


Dean was smiling when he got into the bathroom and his smile grew when he spotted the Cas sized handprint right across his chest, directly over his heart.  


Okay, so maybe he was as cute as fuck, and funny, too, but that didn’t mean it was okay to add him to the goddam wank bank. But then… what was the real harm in it? It wasn’t as though the guy actually had to know, right?  


Dean looked down at the handprint again, staring at the way it splayed across his breast. _Besides,_ he thought bitterly, _someone like Cas isn’t gonna even look my way. He’s got his shit together, his life is perfect. Me…_  


“Fuck.” He ripped his gaze from the mirror, his jaw tight. “Fucking fuck fuck fuck.” Stripping his shirt off, Dean stepped into the shower and turned the water on full blast, not bothering with heat. It wasn’t like he deserved hot water, anyway. He grabbed at a bar of soap and began scrubbing vigorously, the insidious little thought disappearing before he had time to even realise it had been there.  


Instead of ordering pizza or a sandwich or something, he went directly to his fridge and pulled out the six pack of beer that had been left chilling for most of the day. Yeah, he had to work tomorrow, and he could hear Sammy’s voice in the back of his head, worried and nagging, but, hell, it was only beer. Beer didn’t count.  


His plan (to drink just enough to quell the negativity floating around and to get just buzzed enough to fall asleep) fell apart around 6:30, though. He was on his second beer and focused on an episode of Galavant when his phone buzzed next to his elbow. He glanced over at it and picked it up, blinking at the name floating above the text.  


Sammy.  


**Hey, dude, Jess said yes. We’re going to have the wedding at your place. – SW**  


**She said she wanted to come down and check it out, help fix it up. I kinda made it sound like you needed a lot of help. Lol. We should be coming to visit in a few months. – SW**

**If that’d ok – SW**

**That’s* - SW  
**

Dean stared at his phone for several seconds before sending a reply, assuring his little brother that it was completely and totally okay. He felt his whole body relax, then grow excited. SAM was going to visit again. He would get to see his brother twice in a year! That almost never happened!! Dean’s face split into a wide, absurdly happy grin and he fell back onto the air mattress, laughing.  


Hell, he’d have to get at least one room in sleeping order. And the kitchen. With a great deal of excitement, Dean leapt to his feet, rubbing his hands together. The kitchen would need to be functional. It would have to be painted, and then the appliances needed to be installed, but that wouldn’t be too bad. The guestroom was in a much more dire state of disarray at that point. The hideous wallpaper and the worn flooring screamed complete overhaul. He closed the lid on his laptop and bounded up the stairs in two leaps, carefully cradling the remaining beers in the crook of his arm.  


He began ripping down the already peeling wallpaper with exuberance. Music was quickly added as the demolition began with Dean alternately singing along loudly to the classic rock blaring from his phone and drinking down the alcohol.  


It was three AM before he finally passed out, cold and exhausted. He probably wouldn’t have even woken up if it hadn’t been for the loud, blaring alarm going off right next to his head. His eyes snapped open and he moaned pitifully, carefully picking himself off the floor. It had been a long time since he’d slept on a hard surface, and his body wasn’t used to it any longer. Either that or he was just getting too damn old.  


Another shower was in order, with Dean mumbling curses the entire way through. The rest of the paint was exfoliated, and the beer smell washed from his hair and brushed from his teeth, leaving him feeling like a new man.  


“You’re late.” Were the first words from Benny’s mouth as Dean came hurrying through the office door, his arrival accompanied by the sound of a tinkling bell.  


“I know, man. Sorry. I was busy last night, and…” Dean groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just ugh.”  


“You do look like shit.” Benny peered at him closely, his eyes narrowing. “Everything okay, brother?”  


There was a slight pause before Dean remembered exactly why he’d decided to tear apart the guestroom. “OH!” His whole face lit up, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his old, faded blue jeans. “Sam’s gonna visit again! He’s bringing Jess and they’re going to stay a little while to help. I guess Jess wanted to see my place before it’s too late.” He giggled a little and rubbed his nose.  


“Didn’t he just visit?” Benny asked carefully, picking up a clipboard and casually flipping through the papers.  


“Yeah, but he won’t be here for a little while. Hell, I don’t know how he’s doing it, but I’m glad he’s taking the time. It’s been a long time since we’ve been…” Dean trailed off and cleared his throat. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”  


Without a skipping a beat they switched gears. And that was why it was easy with Benny. The man knew when to drop a subject without question. They’d been friends for years, all their dirty laundry had been aired between them, and they knew that there were things that just didn’t need to be re-hashed. Both men had shadows they wished to ignore.  


Benny jerked his thumb behind his back toward the actual garage area, grunting in response. They headed towards the door, not saying much to one another.  


The shop was a unique spot. It had been a massive old warehouse Dean and Benny had converted together five or six years back. The building was a huge place that had been deemed completely useless in the 70s. At one point it had held farm equipment, but for more than thirty years the place had been left to rot. When a customer first entered they walked into a small office area where white walls had been erected to give the illusion of separation. The actual shop had high ceilings and sounds tended to echo through the walls. Part of the building, at the very end, had been converted into living quarters – just a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a small living space. Benny was a man of simple tastes, and he had claimed he didn’t need much to be happy. If Dean were to be completely honest with himself, he was a little envious of his friend. Benny had taken his lumps, but had learned to live with them, had carved out a little niche for himself. The Cajun was easily one of the best mechanics in Kansas, and had customers in and out any given day. Already there was a fresh vehicle to be tuned up, a Kia Sentra, not to mention an old Vauxhall Corsa that was waiting to get cracked open.  


“Chart’s on the dash.” Benny said, throwing Dean the keys to the Corsa.  


“Awesome.” Dean hurried over to the car and got to work, clicking a nearby radio on, filling the huge space with CCR.  


The two men took their break at the same time, both sitting outside of the garage and eating in the early afternoon sun.  


“You know, I found out something pretty cool yesterday.” Dean said through a mouthful of BLT.  


“And what would that be?” Benny asked, leaning against the side of the warehouse, his eyes closed as he soaked up much needed rays.  


“James, you know my next door neighbour? His middle name is Castiel. Isn’t that awesome. I’ve never heard that name before. It’s an angel or something, but I’m gonna call him Cas now. It’s great. He looks more like a Cas than a James. It’s a kind of weird name for a definitely weird guy. Oh! But, I found out that he ALSO has a sense of humour! Yesterday he fucking painted a line down my back.” Dean chuckled and shook his head. “I had handprints all over yesterday. It was fucking hilarious. I got him better than he got me, though. I slapped his ass so he had a blue handprint right there.” Dean pointed to his butt, smirking.  


Benny made a non-committal noise, thoughtful and quiet.  


“What?” Dean demanded, setting his drink down and folding his arms. “I know that look, Benny. Spit it out.”  


All he got in reply was a shake of the head as Benny got up and brushed the crumbs from his lap. Finally, after making sure there was no mayo smeared on his shirt or juice on his pants, the stoic man looked down at Dean. “Have you heard from John?”  


That wiped the half smile from Dean’s face. His shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened, his chest constricting. “Yeah. He called me after I got off work Tuesday. I guess he’s…”  


“When did he get out?”  


“Three days ago. He wants to come over.” Dean hesitated, feeling guilty as shit. “But, Jesus, Benny, I don’t know if I really want him here. I know it’s fucking shitty of me, but… fuck, he makes me feel like a damn twelve year old. I’m the worst kid in the world.”  


Benny heaved a sigh and shook his head. “You know that’s not true. You’re… he’s proud of you, Dean. Or he should be.”  


Dean snorted and Benny turned around, sorrowful. “You may have made mistakes, Dean, but who hasn’t? You’re getting things together. You’ve got a house, a job, and you’ve kept your nose relatively clean. Any father would be proud of how far you’ve come.”  


“Yeah, yeah. I know. I just… I know I’m not Sam. I shoulda been more like him. Dad always… they may have fought, but I always knew Dad was proud of him for making something of himself.”  


For a moment Benny looked like he was going to make a sharp retort, so Dean didn’t give him the chance. He collected the remnants of his lunch and pushed passed his friend.  


“Listen, man, I don’t need you to analyse me, and I don’t need him around telling me everything I’ve done wrong. And I’m definitely not gonna get all… whiny about my feelings or whatever.” Again, Dean was relieved when Benny accepted that and allowed the conversation to come to a natural, if awkward end. After all, what was Benny going to say to make Dean change his mind? Dean already knew he was a fuck up, that he was the stupid one. That he was good for nothing but taking orders. So his dad had never once been proud of him. So he’d spent his entire life trying to make him happy. It was a life wasted because, to sum it up, Dean wasn’t Sam. He couldn’t get anything right. He was better sticking to cars. He knew cars.  


Dean let Benny clean the kitchen after their lunch and instead got to work on the car, determined to finish it before five. In the end he managed to get it taken care of by three and spent the last two hours of his shift talking to customers, making estimates, and setting up appointments. Which was probably the part of the job he hated most.  


When he got home he didn’t feel hungry so he got straight to work on the house, his mind focused on the task at hand. He didn’t see Cas – damn, but that name suited him – and he tried not to let it bother him. Not that it would. It wasn’t like the guy was important or anything. Right.  


Dean and Cas didn’t meet the next day, either. Dean didn’t even SEE the man, and it was beginning to irritate him.  


By the end of the second day the idea that Cas was avoiding him had planted its seed in his mind and his mood began to turn sour. By Friday Dean's entire outlook had turned positively grim, and when Benny mentioned the attitude change to him, two days after the paint incident, Dean growled at him, saying that he wasn’t in a bad mood and if he was, Benny would damn well know it, so fuck off. He stayed late at work, angrily changing tyres and tinkering with the suspension of an old hatchback. Cas was a busy guy. It wasn’t like he was avoiding Dean, right? Right. They weren’t really close or anything, so it was fine that they didn’t speak all day. Still… he hadn’t even SEEN him since Wednesday.  


Right as he was on his way out, Benny stopped him. “You still need my help tomorrow?”  


“Uh… yeah. Of course. Maybe around ten? I’m almost done with the outside. If you bring your truck you can just spend the night and we can pick up the shit for the kitchen Sunday, too.”  


“Sounds good, Boss. See you tomorrow.”  


“Yeah, see ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh!! I know, I know, it's a filler chapter, but things are MOVING. I swear they're moving.  
> In fact, just for you, and just because you've all been so gracious and kind and encouraging, here is a small tidbit of what is to come in the next chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> _Looking out the window James saw a huge, black Chevy pull up behind the Impala. He frowned a little as a strange feeling reared deep within his belly. He watched Dean hurry out of the house, a huge grin on his face as a big, burly man hopped out of the truck. The feeling only grew when Dean pulled the stranger into a hug, pulling away from him 5 seconds later than one would in an ordinary hug. James' lips pursed together as he saw Dean smile with true joy, a smile he had heretofore reserved for the younger Winchester sibling._  
>  _Who was that? Why did Dean look at him in such a manner? It took all James' strength not to march straight over to Dean's house and introduce himself that moment, just so he could find out who the interloper was._  
>   
> 
> Also, the song is I Don't Know by the Beastie Boys.


	11. Lover of the Light

James told himself he wasn’t avoiding Dean. He was just very busy. Very busy. The man didn’t even go outside for two days, so when Saturday morning dawned he couldn’t find a single excuse to stay in his office. He stumbled out at a quarter to ten, bags under his eyes and the beginnings of a beard splashed across his jaw. He vaguely heard Amelia’s voice, but it didn’t fully register on his mind as he poured himself a cup of coffee in hopes to wake himself. He’d barely slept since Wednesday, his brain feverishly trying to remember just how Dean’s hands had felt on his body as he simultaneously did his very best NOT to remember. Especially the bit when Dean had pressed his palm flat against his posterior. James coloured a little at the memory.  


“Hey! Jimmy! Earth to James Novak!” Amelia waved a hand in front of his face and he blinked, noticing her for the first time.  


“Amelia. What?” He set the mug down and stared at his wife guiltily, embarrassed to be caught in such sinful contemplations.  


She rolled her eyes and rested a hand on her hip. “I asked you if you had anything going on today. I’m going to go grocery shopping and I wanted to know if you’re coming with.”  


James shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “No… I think I feel a headache coming on.” He grimaced at the suddenly concerned look on his beautiful wife’s face.  


“Oh, hun, are you okay? You haven’t been sleeping much lately. Do you want me to stay here?”  


Ahhh, there it was, the punishingly heavy weight of guilt’s finger as it tried to crush James into particles of dust. The woman really was a saint. He didn’t deserve her. “No, no, Amelia. I’ll be alright. I’m just going to take something for it and lie down on the couch. The caffeine should help.”  


Amelia slid her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Okay, dear. You do that. Call me if you need anything.”  


James gave her a half hug back and promised to do just that. His stomach filled with acid as he watched her go, hating himself more with every step she took. The moments like these, the times when they hugged or even touched were growing increasingly less, and in the short time since Dean Winchester had moved next door they had all but stopped. He could see the worry that grew inside Amelia when she thought he wasn’t looking, and it made him feel helpless.  


To be fair, he had planned on doing just what he said, but just as he sat himself on the sofa he heard the low rumble of a diesel engine, and frowned. The sound wasn’t unusual, but it was coming from Dean’s house.  


Curiosity won in a quick skirmish, and James was on his feet in seconds, walking over to the kitchen to see what was going on. Looking out the window James saw a huge, black Chevy pull up behind the Impala. He frowned a little as a strange feeling reared deep within his belly. He watched Dean hurry out of the house, a huge grin on his face as a big, burly man hopped out of the truck. The feeling only grew when Dean pulled the stranger into a hug, pulling away from him 5 seconds later than one would in an ordinary hug. James' lips pursed together as he saw Dean smile with true joy, a smile he had heretofore reserved for the younger Winchester sibling.  


Who was that? Why did Dean look at him in such a manner? It took all James' strength not to march straight over to Dean's house and introduce himself that moment, just so he could find out who the interloper was. James took a step back, his nails biting into the palms of his hands. Was this… was this jealousy? No. No, it couldn’t be. No. No.  


James refused to be jealous. That was why he wasn’t going to march over there like an over possessive man, angry that his… his what? His next door neighbour was having someone else help him fix his house? That was ridiculous. And what did it matter that Dean and his friend laugh and chat as they painted the exterior of Dean’s house.  


James continued to get up from the couch every so often, returning to the kitchen, getting water and iced tea and various foodstuffs, each time growing angrier and angrier. Every time he walked by, every time he looked out the window – just to admire the scenery – his thoughts grew darker and darker until he began growling angrily every time he even looked. It was HIS job to help Dean with the house! HIS.  


Meanwhile, Dean was having a great time with Benny. Working on the house was almost therapeutic, and soon the two men found themselves reminiscing about their youths. Dean was grinning like a fool, his eyes sparkling with mirth.  


“God, remember when we fucking jacked that car in Dallas?” He asked, finishing a few of the planks before stepping back to admire his handiwork.  


“As I remember you were so shitfaced you could barely walk ten steps before hurling your guts.” Benny smirked, following suit and staring at the house.  


“At least I wasn’t high.” Dean shot back, turning his nose up in mock affront.  


“True, true.” Benny agreed, sighing and digging a cigarette from his pocket and pressing it between his lips.  


“Hey, gimmie that.” Dean held his hand out expectantly, smiling when Benny handed it over, now arguments made.  


“Isn’t that your next door neighbour, brother? The one with the blue eyes looking like thunder and marching this way?” The Cajun drawl sounded slightly amused as Benny nodded to the man headed toward them.  


Dean looked up, exhaling a cloud of smoke and making a startled, half guilty, half excited face. “Oh! Hey!” He called out, unable to hold back the treacherous smile threatening to overtake his lips as he saw Cas walk purposefully toward them. He gave the cigarette back to Benny and waved. “Hey, Cas, what’s up?”  


Cas hesitated for a moment, looking a little uncertain as he hovered in the front of the friends. “I, uh… I forgot to tell you Amelia wanted to invite you to dinner tomorrow.” He said stiffly, making Dean’s smile solidify just a little. Damn, but the man was adorable.  


“You mean I didn’t scare you two off last time?” Dean joked, silently cursing his heart for skipping a beat.  


Cas looked at him like he’d gone insane, his fucking gorgeous eyes darkening slightly as he answered in a low, deliberate voice. God. That voice was… hot.  


“No, Dean, you did not. I – we enjoyed your company greatly. Amelia has been very eager to ask you over again.”  


“Relax, Cas! I was just joking, but I’m not sure if I can this time. Me ‘n’ Benny kind of have plans.” Dean hissed a little when Benny nudged him in the ribs. Then he realised that Cas was giving his friend a dubious, heavy-browed stare. “Oh! Yeah, I forgot you two haven’t met yet. Benny, this is Cas, the guy I’ve been telling you about. Cas, this is my friend Benny. I’ve known him for… God, how long has it been? Eight years?”  


Benny snorted. “Try 16,” he held the cigarette out to Dean, who accepted it with a groan.  


“Jesus, now I feel old.” Dean groaned, taking a long drag and exhaling the smoke through his nostrils, not noticing that Cas watched the cigarette go from Benny to Dean and then back to Benny. He did notice when he heard the dark haired man make a low almost strangled noise. “You okay, Cas?” He asked, peering closely at his next door neighbour.  


“Yes.” Cas rasped, but Dean wasn’t convinced. The poor man’s face was turning a little red and he looked pained.  


Dean leaned in closer, furrowing his brow. “Is the smoke bothering you?”  


“No. No. It isn’t. I will inform Amelia that you will not be joining us.”  


Dean’s gaze lingered on the sharp jawline until he realised exactly how fucking girly he was being. “Okay… Hey! Did you notice I’m almost done with the house? Pretty cool, huh?” Yes, Dean knew he was just using the house as a flimsy excuse to keep Cas talking longer. It was hard to deny just how much he’d missed the shorter man now that they were face to face.  


“Yes.” The reply was clipped and cool, giving the older Winchester brother pause.  


What had he done to piss Cas off? Dean desperately ran through the conversation, his confusion only mounting when he heard Cas make an excuse about having more work to do. What had he done to make his neighbour uncomfortable? Why did he so clearly want to leave?  


“Yeah. Okay.” Dean reached over and yanked the nearly depleted cigarette straight from Benny’s lips and finished it off in one aggressive drag, pointedly not looking at Cas. Whatever. He wanted to get the hell outta there? Fine. Fuck him. It wasn’t like Dean really wanted to see him anyway.  


“Alright. Just… let me know if you need my help later.”  


“Yeah. Okay. See you.” Dean flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and waited until Cas walked off to pick it back up and dispose of the object properly.  


When he got back he felt his friend’s gaze directed at his face. “What?” He snapped, more than a little irritated for less than no reason.  


“Nothing.” Benny replied, making the most annoying know-it-all smirk ever conceived.  


“Bull. Shit. Spit it out. You’ve been sitting on something for days now.” Dean glared ferociously at his friend, daring him to contradict.  


His friend gave him the most infuriating shrug ever created. “I’ve been wondering about something since Tuesday.”  


“Something about me? Since Tuesday?”  


Benny nodded.  


“What the shit, dude? I just STARTED Tuesday.” Dean stared at him in disbelief, grabbing his brush and starting on some detail work with the white paint he’d bought. “Well? Spit it out before I pound it out of you.”  


Benny rolled his eyes at the empty threat. “You.”  


“Me? What?” Dean dipped the paintbrush and continued to work, almost fearing what he would hear.  


“You like your Mr Blue Eyes.”  


Dean gripped the handle tighter, his suspicions confirmed. “Dude. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He snapped, his ears turning a violent shade of magenta.  


“Suuure.” Benny snickered.  


“Fuck you! I do not fucking… Jesus, Benny, I’m not a Goddamn teenager. I don’t have a thing for Cas.” Dean whipped about to glare at his laughing friend, his brush pointed towards him in an accusing fashion.  


“Whatever you say, Boss.”  


“I hate you.” Dean dropped the brush back into the paint and rubbed his face wearily. “I don’t… I don’t know. He’s hot. I mean, look at him! He’s fucking…”  


“Married?” Benny supplied quietly.  


“Exactly.” Agreed the now miserable Dean Winchester. “I’ve… only known him for a few weeks, but… fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You know I don’t try to get into married people’s pants. And I didn’t with him, I swear! But somehow… shit. I don’t know. He’s just different. I’ve never met anyone like him.”  


“I’m not judging you, Dean. After everything, you know I couldn’t judge.”  


“I’m not gonna do anything.”  


“I know, Dean.”  


They looked at one another and simply, silently agreed not to talk about it any longer.  


It was nice working with Benny – seeing Benny. Sometimes Dean remembered the good old days. The days when he, Charlie, and Benny used to run rampant. Sure, they’d been menaces to society, always finding new ways to circumvent the law, but hell, he’d loved every minute, and it was thanks to those escapades that he was able to fucking afford all that he could right now. Sure, he felt guilty some days, but as Charlie explained, those assholes had deserved everything they were given.  


Benny did end up spending the night. They fell asleep watching Game of Thrones on Dean’s laptop, the two of them nodding off on the queen sized air mattress around 1.  


That night was filled with confused, yet vivid dreams.  


_He was 15 again, Sammy was asleep in the next room.  
_

_“Shhhhh. We can’t wake Sam up.” Dean whispered, tugging the boy closer. “Shhhh! Hey! He laughed at the faceless boy and groaned as his laugh was kissed away. He felt hands on his waist and nuzzled at the slightly stubbled chin, rejoicing as he was rewarded with another kiss. Dean could smell books and coffee and sun, and when he dipped forward to kiss his companion again, he heard a deep, coarse groan, a gravelly voice that pooled deep in his gut. Oh. Oh. Oh, God. He kissed the cleft chin, nosing the jaw, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when the door was suddenly thrown open.  
_

_He was grown, fully an adult, every bit his 34 years, but his father still towered above him, dark and impossibly tall as he took a step forward, menacing his son. Dean heard him begin to shout horrible words, hurling insults that registered deep in Dean’s soul. He knew what was going to happen next. He knew he was going to be hurled against a wall. He was going to spend the next week in a hospital. But just as the man was about to deliver a bone crushing blow, the man beside him glowed. Huge wings stretched out to encompass Dean’s figure. He was surrounded by warmth as a familiar voice boomed out in the tiny closet, banishing John Winchester. The angel wrapped his arms around Dean, and just as he turned his green eyes to look at the ethereal face, he woke.  
_

Benny had a leg slung over him and was snoring loudly, his mouth hanging open. Dean groaned and pushed the heavy limb off of him, thoroughly shaken.  


It was 5 in the morning and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep again.  


On a hunch he reached for his phone and slouched out of the house, dialling a long memorized number.  


Three rings in and he heard a slightly crackling voice on the other end. “Dude, do you know what time it is?”  


“Hey, Charlie. You’re breaking up.” Dean instantly relaxed against the house.  


“Oh! Sorry! Here. I had you on speaker phone. Better?”  


“Yup,” Dean closed his eyes and let out a long breath.  


“What’s up, Winchester?” His old friend chirped. “You don’t normally call me at this ungodly hour unless you’re having some sort of existential crisis and you need advice from the master.”  


“Did I wake you up?” Dean asked, knowing full well he hadn’t.  


“Naaaah, I just got done playing LoL.”  


“Did you win?”  


“Dude, Dean, c’mon. Is your Queen a loser?”  


“No ma’am.” Dean laughed, rubbing his eyes shaking his head.  


“So, Winchester, what’s going on with you?”  


Dean hesitated a moment before blurting it out. “I had a weird dream.”  


“Oh yeah? What was it this time? Did you dream you hunted vamps and ghosts and shit again? Saving lives and hunting things?”  


“Hey! That was ONE time!” Dean objected, sitting forward and scoffing.  


“Suuure it was. So if it wasn’t that, what was this one about?” He could practically hear Charlie roll her eyes.  


“I dreamt about… about…. That time when dad – John… caught me with Andy.” Dean said after long moments.  


The silence stretched out, practically deafening him, and he immediately regretted opening his big, fat mouth. “Look. It wasn’t… it wasn’t anything. Just forget about it, okay?” He said hurriedly, pushing himself up from the seated position and running a hand through his hair in frustration.  


“Hey. Don’t be an idiot. That… must have been one craptastic dream.” Charlie didn’t sound pitying, which Dean was grateful for, but he could hear the sympathy in her tones.  


“It… wasn’t, though. That’s the weird fuckin’ part.” Dean assured her, well aware he was too old to be having nightmares about his childhood.  


“How, in this giant world or any other, was this not one hell of a traumatic-ass dream? Cuz I remember what happened after that, Dean. Remember? The hospital when we met?” Charlie demanded incredulously, obviously smelling shit.  


“Well,” Dean mumbled, hyper conscious about this being the most stupid thing he’d ever said, sure that he was going to regret it immediately after it was uttered. “Before anything could… happen… the guy I was… you know, anyway, he kind of turned into an angel and made him disappear.” Yup. It sounded dumb. What was it about Charlie that made him capable of telling her the dumbest shit his mind came up with?  


“The guy? As in not Andy?” Charlie prodded, then she cackled a little. “Come on, Dean, spit it out. What hunk of a man were you dreaming about? Come oooon, I can HEAR you blushing.”  


“Fuck you, Bradbury! I couldn’t see his face.” Dean grumbled grouchily, hating Charlie’s spot on intuition.  


“Yeaaah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t know who it was. Dean, you should know by now that you can’t out fox the MASTER fox.”  


“Well… uh… I couldn’t see his face, but I’m pretty sure it was my next door neighbour… Cas.”  


“Pictures.” Charlie said immediately, barely waiting for Dean to finish his sentence. “I need to see the man who has turned my handmaiden’s life into a chick flick.”  


“What?! I don’t have any pictures! And my life is NOT a Goddamn chick flick! I just think he’s kind of hot.” Dean protested, pacing back and forth on the porch.  


“Dean, Dean, Dean. He’s your hunky next door neighbour and you’re DREAMING about him. You are SO chick flick’d.”  


“I. Am. Not.” Dean ground out.  


“You so are! Does Benny know? What am I saying? Of course he does. I’m gonna verify tomorrow.”  


“Charlie! Fuck, you don’t understand. He’s…. married.”  


“Oh.” Charlie murmured, then she snorted a little. “Dude, your life isn’t a chick flick, it’s a fucking Harlequin romance.” When Dean didn’t reply, the woman relented a little. “Look, if he’s married then he’s married. The real question is if he likes you back. If it’s just you jerking off and crushing, then it’s fine, but if he LIKES you, well… maybe you should investigate the matter.”  


Dean smiled and looked up at the slatted porch ceiling. “Thanks, Charlie.”  


“Yeah, no problem. You know, you should have just called Sam. He would LOVE to hear about this.”  


“You know I can’t talk to Sam, Charlie. We just got everything… okay again. He’s so happy and busy, I’m not about to burden him with stupid stuff.”  


Dean listened as Charlie started to tell him how foolish he was, how Sam loved him and wanted to know everything. He needed to stop being so stoic and just TALK for once in his life. God. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.  


“Listen. Listen. Hey, Charlie, it’s getting light out and I’m gonna try to get some more sleep before I have to start working on the house again.”  


“Before you go, when do you want me to come over and help get your internet and cable all taken care of?”  


Dean hesitated momentarily. “You’re volunteering?” He asked skeptically.  


“Dean, you’re my idiot big brother. Of COURSE I’m volunteering. Plus I gotta get your books outta my house before I start claiming them as mine.”  


“Yeah! Yeah, okay. Uh… whenever you want. I got internet right now. I’m gonna get my TV situation all taken care of so that we can kick some ass on Halo or COD again.”  


“Yeeessss! That’s what I’m TALKING about! Hey, are you still going to the thing in Kansas City next summer?”  


Dean’s face brightened and he punched the air. “I’d forgotten about that! Hell yeah I’m there.”  


“Well, good. A queen can’t be without her handmaiden, and sadly, you're the best one I have.”  


“Okay. Yeah, good. I really do have to go, though. We’ll talk again and figure everything out?”  


“Duh.”  


“Talk to you later, Charlie.”  


“Yeah, keep yourself sane, Dean.”  


The phone line on the other end clicked and went dead. Dean hung up feeling much better for having talked with his self-appointed little sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Mumford & Sons Lover of the Light.  
> Thank you all so much for all your encouraging words! Did you like the preview last time? Should I keep putting a new chapter preview at the end of my chapters?


	12. Float On

Dean tried getting back to sleep, but found the task to be impossible. Benny was sprawled out over the bed, his snoring loud enough to rival thunder, and Dean didn’t feel like pulling the other air mattress up.  


He walked into his kitchen and looked around at the broken down mess, his lips pressed tightly together. This was what he’d wanted. This was what was going to help him get passed Lisa, to get passed… everything. Dean clenched his left hand into a fist. He hadn’t thought of Lisa in… weeks now – which made the older Winchester brother feel like one hell of a heel.  


He could feel his memories slipping, easing to the back of his mind amongst all of his other not so great thoughts. There was so much guilt weighing down on his heart, it was the only way he’d learnt to cope with life. That and, of course, drinking himself under a table every night.  


This house would help. Had helped. It kept him busy, kept his mind on stupid little maintenance issues and decisions. With trying to figure out colour schemes and the various merits of different wood types, Dean didn’t have to contemplate the numerous ways in which he’d let down every important person in his life. He didn’t have to think about how he’d disappointed his dad, how his dad wasn’t the same man Dean remembered from the brief, unfocused glimpses of childhood – no matter how many excuses he’d made for John Winchester. Which, of course, was a habit now, too. A learned reaction to all the shit that had happened. John was family, no matter what. So he’d never been there when it counted, so Bobby Singer had been the one to teach Dean and Sam how to fish, had been the one to play catch with them, get them their first beer. John was their dad. Their real dad, and there was nothing Dean wanted more than a happy family again. He wanted the faded memories.  


There were times when Dean was halfway to passing out drunk when he could lower his lids and peer through the haze at the opposite wall. If he did it just right he could see the warm colours of his mother’s kitchen. He could smell the apple pie fresh from the oven, could hear her laughing and telling him to hurry and finish dinner so he could have dessert. Sometimes he could even hear her voice as she read him The Phantom Tollbooth, but lately even that was fading from memory. Lately all he could remember were the times he saw he cry. Heard the fighting. Even then he’d known it was his fault. If he hadn’t been born his mother could have made a clean break. If he’d never been born she would still be alive.  


Dean swallowed the sick feeling rising to his throat and struggled to his feet. Of course he knew why they had those quarrels now. He knew John Winchester’s dirty secret, about the pain he had caused Mary, but none of that mattered now. Now the only thing Dean cared about was keeping Sam in the dark. Making sure Sam was as happy and ignorant about their parents as anyone could be. Sure, his little brother resented their father, but he didn’t hate him. And maybe, if Dean worked it out, maybe they could even be in the same room without it turning into a shouting match. Maybe Sammy could forgive their father. Hell, Dean had. Even when he told himself that he just couldn’t, that John had gone too far, he always found himself welcoming the man bac into his life.  


The sick feeling continued to bubble, anger adding to the mixture, and he found himself walking swiftly out of the room, through the dining room, into the hall, and finally into the guest bedroom. He began tearing down the hideous trimming, his jaw set in determination.  


Hours passed without registering on the furious man’s brain. Around 10:30 he heard Bobby begin to stir. He stopped what he was doing, his whole body aching and demanding sleep. Around him it looked as though a costal storm had gone through and destroyed this one spot. It had helped, though. Rather than the usual personal destruction his rage caused, good had come of the always violent emotion. Every last bit of the tacky, outdated trip and hideous floral patterned wallpaper had been torn down – much to Dean’s satisfaction. Whoever the previous owners had been, they’d had terrible taste. Dean had a look in the other guestroom – the one he was going to turn into his own office space/library – was covered in an awful salmon shag carpet, neon green walls, and some horrid old paintings of pastoral scenes. The good news was that Dean was almost positive that beneath the fugly rug was a beautiful hardwood flooring. That was often the case with these ancient houses. Their owners decided, for whatever retarded reason, to cover a beautiful wood flooring with some kind of nasty-ass carpet.  


Dean rubbed his hands together, jogging down the stairs and into the dining room, calling Benny’s name.  


Benny poked his head out of the kitchen, his thick brows pulled together. “You and I need to get your kitchen taken care of, brother. Now I understand all the fast food bags and gas stop wrappers.”  


“That’s what I’ve been telling you.” Dean rolled his eyes and lifted his hands to the air, “That’s why I need to get everything finished and painted and shit. I’m sick of the grease and the shit they call meat.” He was actually pretty excited to get the room all fixed up. He couldn’t wait to feel the heated tile under his feet on the cold winter mornings. This was going to be the perfect fucking room. “I’m really glad I got geothermal energy.” He remarked offhandedly, looking about the room, his eyes filled with visions of the future he had planned for this space.  


Benny said something about often being right, but Dean didn’t really pay attention. He was falling in love with the house, despite all the problems and the quiet, lonely rooms, it was beginning to feel like a home.  


Instead of going somewhere to eat, the two men ordered sandwiches and got to work finishing the paint job. Since most of the work was done, it really only took them a few hours to finish. Mainly it was just some small detail work that needed to be completed, along with most of the trim. They cleaned everything up by 1 PM, finished putting away the paint supplies, and then stopped for a breather.  


Dean took a step back, his arms akimbo. There was a sense of pride when he surveyed what had come from days of extensive, intensive labour. “Hey! It looks pretty awesome.” He called from where he was standing. “Come see!”  


Benny ambled over and clapped Dean on the back. “Congratulations. Now you’ve only got the inside to worry about.”  


Dean groaned and hung his head. “You just like ruining moments, don’t you?”  


“Yup.”  


“Bastard.”  


“Yup.”  


They didn’t take much of a break, considering neither of them were the types to stop in the middle of a task, so after a cigarette they immediately got to work in the kitchen. Between the two of them they got the walls painted by 5 PM. It was at that point that they remembered Benny’s truck and the reason he’d spent the night in the first place.  


With minimal amounts of complaining they hopped up into the cab and began discussing the best kitchen appliances. Dean had already decided on a brand new fridge with French doors and enough room to carry a whole half a grocery store inside. He wanted a gas stove and a high efficiency dish washer.  


After a great deal of debating, Dean chose the burnished steel rather than colours. He knew it’d go better with the greys and whites he’d picked out. Monday, after work, he’d get the tiles in, set everything, and by Thursday his kitchen would be all set up for use. The thought made him positively giddy.  


The refrigerator was gotten out of the way first, picked up and dropped off with a great deal of care. It was left in the front room until such time as it could be moved to its final home. The next trip they made they were able to fit both stove and dish washer in the bed of the truck. It took some manoeuvring to make sure neither appliance received any kind of mar or dent.  


They ate on the road, and by the time they got everything inside, they were ready to get started on the floor. Dean was thankful that he had gotten all of his material for the room weeks ago.  


Music, mainly CCR, Robert Johnson, Willie Nelson, and the Allman Brothers, Dean throwing in a few Metallica and AC/DC tunes to break it up.  


They discussed the plans for the kitchen. Dean showed him the layout he wanted. Where the stove would be, how many cabinets, how he wished he had time to make his own, but maybe later.  


“Hey, brother.”  


Dean looked up, blinking slowly. “Yeah?”  


“We had better get to sleep. I just looked at my watch. It’s almost 1 and we both work tomorrow morning. Besides… you look like you’re about to fall face first into the grout.” Benny got to his feet with a grunt, absentmindedly rubbing at his sore knees.  


Dean thought about arguing, thought about waving his friend’s concerns aside, but the truth was he could barely keep his eyes open. All he really felt like doing was pouring himself two fingers of whiskey and passing out. He closed his eyes, dreaming wistfully of a soft bed and a warm, loving body next to him. But in the end all he had was a damned air mattress. “Yeah, okay, alright. You sleeping here again?”  


“As much as I enjoyed the little slumber party, I’d rather sleep by myself in my own bed.” Came the sardonic reply as Benny collected his phone, keys, and hat.  


“Hey. I got two air mattresses. It was just too much of a pain to pull the other one out at three in the morning.” Dean protested, looking down at his grubby clothes and grimacing. He needed about five showers before he was gonna feel clean again.  


Benny snorted and gave his friend a half wave. “I’ll see you at 10.”  


“Have a good night, Benny.”  


“You too, Dean. Get some sleep.”  


Dean rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb at the door. “Yes mom, now get outta my house.” And with that he strode away from Benny and toward the living room. He poured himself a generous amount of Jack, stripped naked, and fell asleep watching The Voice.  


\---  


James wasn’t happy. He didn’t quite understand the burning feeling in his chest or the heated blood when he thought of Dean and his dear old pal Benny. They were old friends, close. They shared cigarettes and laughs. James had never seen anyone share a cigarette outside of the movies; it had always seemed like an almost intimate thing to do. James wasn’t even sure why they did! Apart from the ONE time Dean and Sam had come over for Dinner, James had not seen the man touch one, nor had he heard him mention them. Clearly this Benny character was a bad influence. James had spotted them smoking a few times now. Not that he was looking.  


He stared down at his keyboard, then up at the blank screen before him. He needed to write an owner’s manual to some new blender before next Thursday, and he hadn’t even started on it yet.  


…Cas…  


Oh, how he liked hearing Dean say that. The way he sometimes extended the “s” just a few seconds – like he didn’t quite want to let the name go.  


James sighed and typed the first sentence.  


Dean had tattoos. He’d seen them from afar, but up close… they were a true work of art. James had never had much of an opinion on tattoos before. He’d been taught that his body was a temple. That piercings and tattoos were blasphemy. Desecrating the work of God. Though somehow earrings were alright. But only on the lobes. James shook his head. This was the first time he had ever regarded tattoos as anything more than a wrong choice humans made. Dean’s looked as though they had always been – as though they belonged. Like he’d been born with them, created with his body covered in ink. The script running down his side, the five point star inside a flaming ring drawn on his sternum. Then there were the pale white and pink flowers that disappeared down Dean’s pelvis. James remembered the blossoms vividly, probably because they’d been so out of place. Dean was nothing if not rugged and manly, which made an odd contrast to the delicately coloured flowers, the soft petals and the way it looked like a watercolour painting. So beautiful.  


James was sure there was a story behind every mark. Behind the revolver on his shoulder to the strange markings along the right-side ribs.  


The brunette sighed and rubbed his face, blinking heavily, his eyelids trying to droop despite his brain’s heated gymnastics. Dean Winchester was bad for his sleep. Or what little he got.  


He stood up, joints popping as he made small grunts of discomfort. His limbs were not used to moving after such a long time seated. He sighed, recalling days past when he used to run. Why did he ever stop? Oh, yes. He began working and raising a daughter.  


James ran a finger over the image of the beaming blonde child holding up a small fish. She was only five in that picture. James missed his little girl. She was growing up so fast. Too fast. He remembered that day the photo was taken. It had been her first fishing trip and she’d been so proud of the miniscule trout.  


James had to physically pull himself away from the picture. His daughter was as bad a distraction as the impossibly attractive Winchester man. He could just not win.  


James found himself pacing back and forth between the walls of his office before, without really realising what he was doing, he was upstairs changing. Cloudy grey sweats followed by a bright blue tshirt were tugged on. James managed to dig out his old running shoes and then jog outside. He hadn’t run in years, but somehow it seemed like the only thing to do in this situation. James made sure he stretched properly, taking his time, warming up before beginning to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Float On by Modest Mouse.
> 
> The chapter preview is this:  
>  _He and Cas talked more often than not. Cas would wave at Dean in the mornings when Dean retrieved his papers, and Dean would tease him for running, all the while being secretly glad that he was able to catch a glimpse of the man in action every morning. Cas had ridiculously powerful thighs. His calves were strong and muscular, and he had an ass that could be put in a fucking art gallery. Dean was fairly sure that when god had decided to take a a page from Michelangelo's book when he'd made Jame's Castiel Novak's ass._
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I value every comment and every kudo more than you could possibly know. Thank you, thank you, thank you. <3 (Ahhhhhhh!! THINGS ARE FINALLY MOVING. TALK ABOUT MOLASSES.)


	13. Alone in the World

Honestly, Dean could not have said what woke him up that night. All he knew was that when he woke he lost the dream he’d been visiting, and for the life of him he couldn’t tell if that was a bad thing or a good thing.  


His mouth tasted like ass and his head throbbed relentlessly as he tried to get up, despite the sands of sleep still clinging to his eyes. Finally, Dean managed to raise himself to his feet with much grunting and groaning, his bones creaking with every movement he made. It wasn’t fair. Just a few years ago sleeping on an air mattress for a month or two would have been an easy, painless task, but lately Dean was beginning to feel his age. Sure he was only 34, but that was just 6 years from 40 – an age the eldest Winchester brother never thought he’d reach. Hell, he’d been pretty sure people would find him slumped over a bar toilet before he was 30, but here he was.  


He hobbled for a few steps until his muscles decided to unkink and work properly. It was a short walk from there to the bathroom where he needed to relieve his bladder. Rather than pulling his pants up, Dean left them on the floor, barely remembering to turn the light off as he left the room. He trailed along the hall, staring at the murky surroundings. Emptiness seemed to haunt the walls that closed in on him. Dean didn’t know if he could cure the feeling, he never had been able to do much about it in the past. He couldn’t shake the terrifying thought that, even if he got everything perfect, even if he got his books and his TV where he wanted them… even if his office was perfect for sitting and doing bills and paperwork… even after he got his own ROOM, even after all that… even after all that, what if this place still felt like an abandoned motel he happened to be squatting in? What if he never really had a home? An unmistakable noise hit the air and Dean sunk down against a wall, hands shaking. Who the fuck was he kidding?? The house. The neighbours. The job. He was Dean Winchester: Major Fuckup. No amount of playing house would ever fix that.  


_You can’t pretend to be something you’re not, Dean. You’re trying to fool yourself into this, but you can’t quite do it. I love you, Dean, but you’re just not stable enough for Ben and me. I know you’re trying. I can see that. But… you can’t fix what’s broken._   


Dean slammed his fist on the floor and shot up, bile rising in his throat. Even after… even after this long he could still hear Lisa’s rejection. He could hear the pain in her voice as she told him he had to go. No matter what, no matter what anyone said about her, Dean couldn’t hate her. He knew she’d done it to protect Ben.  


Alcohol was the cure to these late night musings, but as the young man went to search for some, he couldn’t find a single drop. He’d finished the last of his whiskey last night, promising himself that he’d get some in the morning. “Goddamn fucking shit licking cunt whistle!” Dean kicked his air mattress, sending it sliding across the floor. “Mother fucking…” he trailed off as a dog began barking outside. “Jesus Christ,” he headed toward the door, ready to pound on the owner’s door, whoever that might be. There was no WAY he was going to listen to some dumb mutt yelp all friggen night. No fucking way.  


Yanking the door open, Dean looked out for the dog, but instead saw a figure jogging down the street towards him He squinted, shielding his eyes from the porch light, trying to make out who it was.  


“…Cas?” He called out quietly, still not entirely sure.  


The running figure stopped a few yards away, then came closer. “Dean?” it returned, closing the gap between them. Sure enough, Cas’ face materialized in the extremely early morning fog, looking quizzical and more than a little out of breath.  


Dean felt himself smile despite everything. Cas looked… fucking adorable. His blue eyes were over bright with exertion, lips chapped, nose and cheeks pink, forehead damp. “What the hell are you doin’?” He demanded, getting closer to the late night jogger. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk alone at night?”  


“I… couldn’t sleep.” Cas replied, furrowing his brow. “I thought that if I exercised, my body would have no choice but to shut down, despite my brain’s attempts to impede it.”  


“You know… there are a lot of other ways you could, uh, exert yourself.” Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows at the solitary man.  


“None of those options seemed feasible at the moment. I don’t have a gym membership and I don’t know of any swimming pools open this late.”  


“No, um, that’s… not really what I… you know what? Never mind. Hey, let me get you some water. Your face is kinda red.” Before Cas could reply, Dean scurried into the house. He ran to his fridge and grabbed the last remaining bottled water, trying not to question the relief that had flooded through him when he saw James Castiel Novak heading his way.  


“So,” he asked, stepping back outside. “Why can’t you sleep?”  


Castiel accepted the water with a small thanks and drank deeply, his throat bobbing as he downed half of the liquid in one go.  


Dean watched avidly, his mind drifting to not so clean avenues; he bet Cas would be great at giving blowjobs. Dean cleared his throat and shifted about, looking away from his friend. Fuck! The man was just drinking WATER! It shouldn’t be that hot. Damn it!  


Cas recapped his bottle and sighed. “I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to work on a project, but nothing seems to be going quite right.”  


Dean sat down on the top step and looked up at Cas, nodding. He understood the frustration and listlessness that was painfully apparent in the deep blue eyes. Presently Cas’ butt thunked down next to Dean, their shoulders nearly brushing  


“I miss my daughter.” He said after another drink of water. “I don’t like sending her away every year. Even if it’s only for a month. The first time it happened…” Cas trailed off and sighed. “It’s difficult. I’d been around her for her whole life and then she was gone.”  


“Yeah, I think I get what you mean. M ‘n’ Sam used to always be around each other, then, well, college. Now he’s living in Cali, getting married, has two dogs.” Dean looked up at the sky, “I wish that,” he shook his head and heaved a sigh.  


“You wish he hadn’t grown up?” Cas supplied.  


“No. Yeah. Kinda… fuck, I dunno. I wish sometimes that we were still on the road. I miss doing stupid shit like putting his hand in cold water while he’s asleep and loading porn on his computer just so I could see his stupid bitch face.” Dean laughed a little. “He’s my brother, you know? I always had to protect him, look out for him, and now he doesn’t need me anymore. He’s got his shit together, man, he’s doing better than I could have hoped.” There was a silence as Dean told himself not to open his big, fat mouth again. “I miss being a big brother.” Well fuck. “Sorry, I Don’t mean tot dump on you.”  


Cas shrugged. “There’s no reason to apologise, Dean. We all need someone to ‘dump on.’”  


Honestly, the older Winchester brother had no idea why, but he found himself responding to the half-smile on his friend’s face. He ducked his head and shrugged. “Maybe.” He admitted.”  


“I don’t mind you talking to me. You look like you need it.”  


Dean flushed and arched his eyebrows, staring over at Cas. “Oh, really? And you can tell?”  


The words were coated in acid, meant to cut and distance, but they seemed to have no effect on the short man, for he replied with a simple “yes, you look terrible.”  


“Whoa, no sugar coating it with you, huh?” Dean leaned forward and his shoulders slumped. “Sorry, man.” He mumbled, rubbing his face.  


He felt, rather than saw the man next to him shrug, and soon the moment of discomfort passed.  


“I’d like to meet Claire.” It seemed the only thing to say, then, and it was true. Cas spoke highly of his child, when he spoke at all. “She sounds like an awesome kid.”  


“She is.” There was pride in Castiel’s voice. He sounded like a dad ought to sound, full of love and faith in his child’s uniqueness and preciousness. “She means more to me than anything else. I thank God every day for her. When she was born I was lucky enough to be the one to stay at home.”  


“Oh yeah?” Dean turned toward Cas, watching the man’s face as it grew soft and loving. There was nothing more he enjoyed than watching Cas talk about his child. It was… sweet.  


“Yes, when we were first married, Amelia was a real estate agent, and she was quite good at what she did. We were able to buy this house because of her. Honestly, I was just a freelance writer at that point, I could have never afforded a house, let alone supported a child on what I was making. When she got pregnant we talked it over and decided that she would keep her job instead of staying home with Claire.” Cas glanced over at Dean before continuing, his eyes hooded. “It wasn’t as though I forced her to keep it, either. She made more money than I did, and she absolutely loved her job. Of course it was difficult to go back to work after Claire was born, but it was good for her. We both loved Claire, but Amelia needed breaks. She felt guilty for wanting her career, for enjoying her job, like there was something wrong with her for wanting to pursue her dream AND be a mother. She always wanted everything out of life, even when we were children.  
It worked out perfectly, anyway, because I was able to work from home most of the time, and she had extremely flexible hours. But when my job started taking off, she didn’t have the – well – the excuse, I suppose, to continue working.”  


“What do you mean?” At this point Dean was fairly enthralled by Cas’ story. He focused on the sombre man, sea green eyes intent on the quiet expressions.  


“Our relationship has always been what people call unconventional. She wanted to work and be a career woman, I preferred reading and puttering around the house. Writing and gardening and working with my apiary.”  


“Your what?”  


“Apiary, my bees. It’s somewhere bees are kept.”  


“Oh, so, like a beehive?”  


“Yes, sort of.”  


“Ok. Cool.”  


“It was unconventional, but it worked. When we had Claire it seemed only natural that I stay home with her, but the n Claire got older and the women at church, the other mothers, began asking Amelia when she would be able to stay at home. I guess several of the people thought I was not providing as a husband ought, so when I began to get more work, Amelia cut down on her hours until, finally, she quit.”  


“That’s bullshit!”  


Cas blinked at the vehemence in Dean’s words, and immediately the young man explain his sudden outburst.  


“Man, that’s just fucking stupid. Who cares who’s working as long as everyone is happy? Fuck that! People are so judgemental and crazy about shit they don’t understand. No one’s perfect, and if a woman wants to fucking work, she should be able to. I’ll be at a lot of the woman at your church have to work, too.” Dean’s shoulders raised and he scratched at the back of his neck, clearing his throat gruffly.  


“Not as many as you’d think. Those who do want to be able to stay home with their kids. Not that I blame them. Watching Claire grow was the most rewarding thing I have ever encountered.”  


“Yeah, but wanting to have a career doesn’t make Amelia a bad mom. And you staying home doesn’t make you a bad dad.”  


“I agree, but in the end, working was more stressful than was healthy.”  


The two men sat and stared out at the cosy little neighbourhood, at the neat houses with the perfect lawns. At the clean, new cars and the evenly spaced impatiens, gladiolus, cosmos, and bachelor buttons. At the hydrangea bushes and the crab apple trees. Nothing was out of place in the scene. It was the perfect example of middle class America with the carefully painted houses and the neatly kept garages. Even the occupants were hardworking, 2.5 children having, dog owning citizens. Everything fit in the picturesque scene except for the two men sitting on the porch of the only house in the neighbourhood that looked as though it’d come straight out of a Boris Karloff film.  


They watched the uneventful night, both knowing they were imposters in this little world. Both knowing they were different, and different meant wrong.  


In the next few weeks Dean fell into a routine. He got up at half eight on the weekdays, worked until five, got home and then worked on renovating. Three days out of the week, Cas would drop by and offer his services, and Dean always accepted.  


He got the kitchen done first, and by the time it was finished it looked beautiful. The black and white tiled floors complimented warm, grey walls and copper backsplashes. The cupboard space was astounding, and Dean was able to build his perfect counter top system.  


He and Cas talked more often than not, sometimes arguing about the virtues of marble versus granite, wood versus carpet, and different colour schemes. Cas would wave at Dean in the mornings, and Dean would tease him for running – all the while being secretly glad that he was able to catch a glimpse of the man in action every morning.  


Cas had ridiculously powerful thighs. His calves were strong and muscular, and he had an ass that could be put in a fucking art gallery. Dean was fairly sure that if there was a god, he’d decided to take a page out of Michelangelo’s book when he’d made Cas’ ass.  


Amelia would stop by his house, too, every now and then. She’d bring over cookies and lasagne, even pie, for which Dean would always praise her, telling her that she ought to sell her pies, they were so GD good.  


The trouble was, Dean really liked Amelia. She was funny and sweet, and she could out-bake most people he’d met. Which meant, of course, that he felt horribly guilty for blowing his wad to the memory of her husband on his morning jog.  


It became a running joke with Charlie, so much so, that after Dean got his TV set up and they began playing COD and Halo together every week, she would quiz him on how Cas was doing, on what colour his shorts were or what socks he was wearing. To which, of course, Dean would tell her to fuck off and mind her own damn business.  


***  


Two and a half weeks after the night on the porch, Amelia insisted on Cas asking Dean over for dinner. “Jimmy, you’ve got no excuses. Now, I’m leaving in two days, and I’d really like to have a nice grown-up dinner party before I go. Invite Dean over! He’s always eating out and working on his house.” Amelia leaned against her husband, smiling up at him. “Besides, I invited Meg over. She’s very curious about our Mr Winchester.”  


Cas stared at her in horror, taking a step back. “Meg? Amelia, she and Dean would never get along.”  


Amelia rolled her yes. “You men! I think there’s a connection! They both have a very similar sense of humour, and I think Dean is lonely. He never gets out. He should meet new people, maybe even come to one of our services.”  


“No.”  


“Jimmy –“  


“No, Amelia. I’m not going to do it.”  


“James Castiel Novak, I’m going to be leaving soon, and all I want is a nice dinner with people I enjoy. Will you stop being stubborn and ask him? We never have dinner parties, and I want to enjoy myself before I leave. You know he’d enjoy it.” Amelia put her hands on her hips and stared her husband down, her dark eyes dangerously calm.  


Cas hesitated, then gave in. He was just being selfish, he supposed. Meg was a gorgeous woman, and yes, she made his skin crawl, but she’d never done anything to make him REALLY dislike her. Though dating Dean might just do it. “Yes, alright. I will invite him for dinner tomorrow night.” He put an arm awkwardly around her waist and tried to smile.  


“Then go right now! Dean’s home, and I don’t want you making excuses!” She patted his chest and leaned up to kiss his cheek.  


Cas felt the effort there, the meaning behind it. Amelia was trying to make things work. She wanted the perfect marriage, and lately Cas had been more distant than ever. The truth was, he just couldn’t face her. Amelia wanted so much more than he could ever give. They barely slept in the same bed any longer – Cas choosing to spend his time in his office, or, especially as of late, with Dean. Sometimes he missed their chats, how they used to talk late into the night when they’d been younger. Before he’d fully accepted who he was. Before he’d been crushed with guilt.  


The brunette released his wife and trudged to the door, heart aching. How could he do this to her?  


Dean didn’t answer the door when Cas knocked. His car was still in the driveway, but there was no motion by the door. Cas knocked again, calling out Dean’s name as he did so. Maybe he had gone on a walk? Or maybe he was in the shower. He was just about to leave when he heard Dean’s voice drift through an open window.  


Cas knocked again, then opened the door, heading toward the sound.  


***

  


It was a Saturday afternoon and far too hot to be doing anything outside. At least that’s what Dean told himself. The truth was he was just burned out. Working nonstop was beginning to get to him, he was exhausted, the bags under his eyes had deepened since he’d first arrived. Honestly, he HAD tried to finish the wall in the guestroom, but as soon as he’d ascended the stairs he just felt an overwhelming sense of desperation. Besides, Charlie had off and they were currently kicking ass in Halo.  


He was crouched over his Xbox One remote, headset firmly planted on his ears as he chattered with his self-appointed little sister.  


“God DAMN it!” He cried, laughing despite the death of his character. “Some douche is champing out at the fucking respawn point, Charlie. God, that asshat just fucking shot me!! Fuck me!”  


He heard Charlie giggle. “No thank you, Dean. You’re not exactly my type.”  


“Yeah, you’re not my type, either, sunshine.” Dean shot back, practically cackling as he aimed and blasted his opponent’s head.  


“Uh huuuh, that’s because you only have one type right noooow.” Charlie drawled in a singsong voice. Dean groaned, well aware of what was coming next. “Because it’s the ooone you really want to fuuuuuck you.”  


“I don’t want him to fuck me, dick!”  


“Oh yeah? You don’t want Mr Blue Eyes Perfect Ass to bend you over and just go to town?”  


“JESUS!” Dean, distracted by the mental image, his entire face blood red, got himself shot again. “I’m gonna KILL you, Charlie!!”  


“Oh please, you know it’s true.”  


After two seconds of figuring out a comeback, Dean gave up. “Yeah, so what? He’s hot and I bet his dick’s as great as his ass. Yeah, I’d take him to fucking bone town if he were available.”  


He heard Charlie laugh again, her demented, evil laugh.“I say you should go for it. You’re fairly cute. I can’t see anyone turning you down.”  


“Dude, I’m adorable. You know how many chicks and dicks I get when I –“ he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and looked away from the TV screen.  


Oh…… shit. Yeah. Yep. Dean was royally, totally fucked. The universe hated him, and it was just now letting him know.  


“C….as?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this one up! I sort of went through a lot of crap. I found a new job, so I quit my old one, and blah blah blah. Lots of work and stress, which is loads of fun, as I'm sure you all know.  
> THANK YOU so much for all the warm and heartfelt comments!! I'm really glad you're all enjoying it! Don't worry, I PROMISE that things start heating up in the next few chapters. As I am still writing it, I'm not sure when exactly the moment will arrive, but it is getting closer and closer.
> 
> The song is Alone in the World by Alexandre Desplat from the movie Rise of the Guardians. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!!


	14. Reptilia

There he was, standing in the doorway looking highly uncomfortable, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape.  


Dean cleared his throat, smiling a little tremulously. “What’s up, Cas?” The poor man’s heart sank with every second of silence that passed between them. He felt like getting up and running as far as he could. There was no way Cas hadn’t heard him. It was almost impossible to tell what the dark haired man was thinking at any given time, and now he had on the mother of all poker faces. Surely… surely he hadn’t guessed, right??  


Dean pushed his headphones down and muted the headset, ignoring the constant stream of questions coming from the other end, Charlie was clearly highly interested in what had just occurred.  


“Amelia wanted to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night.” Cas’ voice was tight, his stance stiff and guarded as he stared across at the young man sitting cross legged on the floor. Dean cloud see the muscles working in his jaw. “I’m sorry,” Cas continued, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your game. Amelia insisted that I ask immediately because she is leaving to pick up Claire on Monday.”  


“No! I, uh –“ Dean began, but Cas interrupted him.  


“We would both like it very much if you could come.”  


“Oh, uh, yeah, um, okay. Yeah. I guess so. What time should I be there?”  


“Seven o’clock should be fine.”  


“Okay, yeah… alright.”  


“Then we will see you tomorrow at seven.”  


Dean watched as Cas turned around and walked out, his back as straight as a phone poll. Dean put his headphones back on. “Well, shit.” He mumbled into the pic, but no reply was forthcoming. “Charlie? Charlie, are you AWOL?” He looked at his screen in annoyance, but just before he got really angry, he realised he had her on mute.  


“—y GOD, Dean! Unmute your fucking –“  


“Hey, Charlie.”  


“Oh, good, you can hear me now. What the HELL just happened??”  


Dean took a deep breath, staring blankly at the TV screen where his character was being tea bagged by some fuckwad on the opposite side. “Well,” he said slowly, pushing the remote aside. “my life is fucked, because I’m pretty sure Cas just heard me say I’m gay for him.” Almost superstitiously Dean’s voice lowered and he gave a furtive glance around, as though he expected the man in question to pop back into the room like some friggen ghost hell bent on hearing all of his most embarrassing moments.  


“At least you didn’t say his name.” Charlie pointed out, and Dean blinked, his brows pulling together.  


“Hey… you’re right. I didn’t actually… not that that matters anyhow. He thinks I’m gay now, Charlie.”  


The redhead’s tone got a little defensive, and he could just picture her eyes narrowing as she began to posture. “So what, Dean? What’s so wrong with being gay?”  


“Not like that, Charlie. You know there’s nothing wrong with it. He’s just… he’s a fucking Christian, and they’re not all exactly wearing the rainbow fuckin’ flag.” Dean’s voice rose a little higher at that, a hint of hysterical desperation edging it as he rubbed his face.  


Charlie took a deep breath. “Okay, what happened?”  


There was a pensive silence on her end as Dean explained, haltingly, what had happened, their game completely forgotten. When he was finished she heaved a huge sigh.  


“…well, he still invited you to the dinner, yeah? Why don’t you just go and ask him there?”  


Dean snorted and began to explain why that was the world’s worst decision in the history of decisions when she cut him off.  


“Ba ba ba, no. Deanie, don’t THINK, just listen to you queen and DO. Trust me on this. It’s just going to be tense and awkward, and this way you can head it off. Yes?”  


Dean groaned and dropped his head to his knees.  


“Yes?” She repeated expectantly.  


“Yeah, fine.” He groaned yet again.  


They both logged off after a few more minutes, Dean silently agonizing over what Cas might have heard. Could it be the end of their friendship? Why did that hurt so fucking much? Dean couldn’t concentrate on anything. He snarled at himself for being so damn pathetic, for letting someone get to him so easily. He tried analysing the look on Cas’ face, the wide eyes and parted lips, but that didn’t help. In the end there was really only one thing he could do: wait until Sunday night and ask him then.  


That was going to be one hell of an awkward conversation.  


“Hey Cas! So you overheard me saying I’d like to take it up the ass from some guy. By now you’re PROBABLY thinking I’m as gay as fuck, but don’t worry! I’m not gay, I’m BI, and just in case you didn’t know what bi means, it means I have premarital sex with both women AND men, so I’m double damned! Isn’t that awesome?? Oh, is that the gate of hell you’re opening for me? Why thank you! I’ll jump now!”  


Dean whimpered, curling up on the floor in the foetal position. He was totally and completely ruined. Again. The universe hated him.  


***  


So, Dean Winchester was gay. No, that wasn’t right. Didn’t he have a fiancée at one point? Not that that was a disqualifier, Cas thought bitterly. All in all it was an astonishing revelation. Dean Winchester liked men, and moreover… he was interested in… Nope. Nope. Cas shook his head violently. He was NOT allowing his mind to go in THAT particular direction.  


Though, if he was perfectly honest with himself, it was probably because of what he overheard at his neighbour’s house that made him less queasy about dinner. If Dean was gay, then Meg would be unable to get her hooks into him! Cas flushed, chastising himself for such an uncharitable thought. Still, he was unable to keep a small, slightly smug smile from his face when he overheard Amelia tell Miss Masters Dean was coming to dinner.  


Cas sat through the Sunday morning service, for once his mind not on the preacher, but rather on his own inner turmoil.  


Being gay had always been his cross to bear. He had dealt with his urges in the only way he knew how; he shoved them so deep down inside him that he hardly even knew they were there. Cas had been so proud of himself for being able to bury them so deeply inside him that he couldn’t find them even if he’d wanted to. And while life wasn’t exactly pleasurable that way, he took solace in knowing he was suffering here on earth so that just joys would be tenfold in heaven.  


Besides, living with Amelia wasn’t unpleasant. They’d been very good friends all his life, and when they married it had been like moving in with a friend. Except for the sex. Cas’ lips pursed and he exhaled through the nose.  


Brother Zachariah had finished his sermon and everyone was going around shaking hands, their smiling faces alight with joy and cheer from the spiritual succour that was their Sunday service. Cas envied them.  


Someone approached him about one of the parishioner’s birthdays and he nodded absently. Several more people came up to him after that, inviting him to dinners and get-togethers while Amelia was gone. One of the men elbowed him knowingly, saying how he would need the company while his better half was away.  


For the first time in his life, Cas found himself lying to them, telling them he had already made plans to help his neighbour with renovations while Amelia was gone, and Amelia, the saint that she was, backed him up, positively cooing about Dean Winchester.  


Throughout the interactions he felt eyes on his back and hesitated before turning around. Zachariah was staring at him knowingly, as though he guessed Cas’ wicked deception.  
It was almost a relief when Amelia tugged his sleeve and informed him it was time to leave. 

“Is Hester still not talking to you?” Amelia asked, sliding into the passenger seat of their truck.  


“I suppose not.” He heard his wife sigh, then felt a small, warm hand on his knee.  


“I’m sorry… I thought she’d be over it by now.”  


Quiet fell and Amelia’s hand slipped away after a few seconds. Cas supposed he ought to have rested his own on hers, but it was passed now. He’d never been much of a husband anyway.  
The truck was put into gear and they slowly drove away from the small church, lost in thought in the quiet vehicle.  


Cas was put to helping Amelia as soon as they got home. He swept the floors, vacuumed the rugs, made sure things were dusted and looking neat, and generally tidied things. He was even allowed to help chop up vegetables and apples, truly a rare occurrence.  


Amelia, he could tell, felt guilty for not returning to the church for their Sunday evening service, but dinner was planned and they had guests. He did his best not to bring up the parish or Sunday services, trying to ease her mind.  


The doorbell rang ten minutes to seven, and Cas went out to get it, surprised that Meg Masters was showing up so early, but when he pulled the door open he saw it was not the dark haired woman.  


Dean stood in the doorway, holding a bouquet of flowers, his handsome face drawn in what appeared to be anxiety. Cas couldn’t help but drag his eyes down the man’s well-built frame. He was wearing a red plaid over shirt and what looked like a soft, black tee beneath. Cas’ throat went dry and he quickly tore his gaze away, but not before catching an eyeful of the perfectly fitted dark wash jeans. Sweet heaven, Dean Winchester had practically gift wrapped himself. Cas felt his cheeks heat up. “Dean, come in,” he rasped, stepping aside, studiously staring at the floor.  


“Thanks, Cas. I, uh, brought some flowers.” He held up the bouquet, hesitating a little. “I… wasn’t sure… I mean, I was going to bring wine, but I thought these might be a little better…”  


Cas smiled a little, looking back up at his nervous guest. “The flowers are appreciated.” He murmured. Poor Dean was so uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, never quit lifting his glass green eyes to meet Cas’. “Let’s get them in water before Meg arrives.”  


“Wait. Who now?! There was a certain fascinating kind of beauty in the way Dean’s eyebrows pulled together when he was confused and more than a little suspicious.  


“Sorry,” Cas rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder, unable to help it. “Amelia is trying to set you up with a young woman who recently moved to Lawrence and started going to our church.”  


Dean groaned, his knuckles tightening around the stems. “Oh.”  


They stood there, neither seeming to want to move, until the doorbell rang again. Cas picked his hand from Dean’s shoulder quicker than he would have if Dean had been a snake.  
“I’ll just… give this to Amelia.” Dean rumbled, looking away.  


“Yes. Okay.” Cas tried to smile, but failed. The doorbell sounded again as Dean disappeared into the house.  


“Hey there, sugar.” The woman standing on his doorstep purred, a half smirk on her face. She held up a bottle of wine and pushed past Cas, looking him up and down before winking. “Amelia told me I didn’t have to bring anything, but that’s just not me. I couldn’t just show up empty handed.” Cas watched as she appraised everything in the house with a small, almost condescending “quaint”.  


Cas grunted his thanks and followed her to the dining room, subconsciously keeping an eye on her movements with some small amount of suspicion.  


“Jimmy!” He heard Amelia call, and soon she came out of the kitchen, holding a vase o the flowers Dean had brought. Her free hand was linked around the young man’s elbow, and she looked positively glowing with pleasure. “Dean brought us flowers!” She brought the blossoms up to her nose and inhaled deeply, her lids fluttering. “They’re beautiful!”  


“They are. Such an odd choice in floral arrangement, too.” Meg drawled, half smirking when all eyes came to rest upon her admittedly lovely face.  


“Oh! Meg! This is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Meg. She goes to our church and she’s such a lovely person!” Amelia released Dean’s arm and gestured to the brunette woman in front of her husband.  


“Hey,” Dean stepped forward and held his hand out, the bright, mercurial eyes dragging up her body. “Nice to meet you.”  


Cas felt an odd heart rise up in his chest as Dean gave Meg Masters a slightly more than appreciative smile. “They are nice flowers,” he found himself saying, stepping out from behind his guest and taking the vase from Amelia.  


“Oh, uh, yeah. I just saw them in a shop and figured they’d be nice.” Dean released his grip on Meg’s hand, his attention focused on Cas’ face as the man held the flowers to his nose.  


“You know, I worked in a flower shop. I know a bit about their meanings.” Meg slithered in a little closer and touched a tall stalk of purple flowers, glancing up at Dean. “These are hyacinth. In the flower language their meaning is sincerity. These…” she drifted to the red tulips. “Mean declaration of love.”  


Dean’s face grew heated, his hands fidgeting at his sides, growing more and more uncomfortable as she explained that the yellow daffodils meant courage, asters were a symbol of love, the Maiden Hair Fern that accentuated the vivid colours with a splash of verdant green meant ‘secret bond of love’.  


“And these,” her eyes seemed to spark as she touched a pale purple flower, “are rhododendron. They’re…. very interesting. They mean danger. ‘I am danger’.” But before she had a chance to move on and say each and every meaning, Dean broke in, his neck and ears nearly magenta.  


“Wow. That’s fascinating. I suppose. I didn’t know flowers were so talkative.” He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, avoiding Cas’ gaze.  


“They are lovely and they have such wonderful, sentimental meanings behind them.” Amelia concluded. “It was sweet of you to bring them, Dean.”  


“Yeah, well, ah, Charlie – that’s a friend of mine – told me never to go to a party empty handed.” Dean’s lips curved into a humourless smile, his amber flecked orbs focused on Cas as he set the vase down on the table, right in the middle. “I just… was passing by a flower shop and picked out the best ones.”  


Cas was focused on Dean’s deep timbre, he vaguely heard Amelia say something about getting the food, and, as if on cue, Dean offered his help. Amelia tried arguing, but their guest wouldn’t take no for an answer. Cas couldn’t help but crack a small grin. For his foul-mouthed, irreverent behaviour, Dean Winchester was nothing if not a gentleman.  


***  


Dean, for his part, wasn’t thinking very gentlemanly thoughts as he followed Amelia into the kitchen. He saw the way that chick was looking at Cas. Like a fucking piece of meat. She gave him the shivers, and he couldn’t wait to get away from the smug, knowing gaze. Not to mention the near boner-worthy image of Cas smelling flowers. Jesus! The man was like some holy being, he practically exuded grace. Did he even shit?? Probably not.  


“What’s so funny?” Amelia was watching Dean from the corner of her eye, an eager look on her angular face.  


“Huh?” Dean blinked, then realised what she was getting at. He felt the grin on his stupid face and nearly swore. What the hell was he getting excited about?? After all, he still had to have that awkward-ass conversation with Cas as soon as possible. “Nothin’. I was just looking forward to your food! I haven’t had a home cooked meal since, well, since I was here last.”  


Amelia rested a hand on his forearm, giving him a knowing, sympathetic smile. “Well, you have a standing invitation here, just so you know. Our door is always open.”  


Dean’s neck prickled with discomfort, unused to any and all emotions other than anger. This genuine niceness was making his skin crawl. How could anyone be this… welcoming? “Are you kidding?” He quickly deflected, lest the room get any girlier than it already was. “I’m gonna have to have you over for dinner! When your kid gets back I’ll have you guys over for some barbeque. I may not look it, but I’mma grill master.”  


“That sounds wonderful! She gave him a spectacular, beaming smile like some benevolent goddess, then turned around, pulling food out and handing containers to the young man. Just when he was a turning around to bring things out to the floor, he heard her say “I’m really glad you moved into the house. You’re just the sort of person this community needs.”  


Dean’s ears burned with the compliment, and he scrambled frantically for something to say, but Amelia seemed not to expect a reply. So none was given. The comment had the opposite desired effect on Dean. Instead of feeling happy and welcome, he felt like the worst man alive. Here they were, welcoming him into their home, and all he was doing was letching on Amelia’s husband.  
_I’m going to hell._ He held back from groaning, his heart low.  


They got the table set with food and Meg apologised about the wine, insisting that she wouldn’t have brought it if she’d known they didn’t drink alcohol.  


“Oh, no!” Amelia assured her, getting out four wine glasses. “It’s not as though we have anything against alcohol. It’s just that we don’t give it a thought. Neither of us grew up with it, so it doesn’t really come to mind.”  


“Please, we don’t have to open it. I should have asked or brought some flowers like Dean-o.” Meg glanced over at him, making his hair stand on end. Why was she standing so close to Cas? Why was her hand on his arm? The woman was like a snake. A beautiful one, but not to be trusted under any circumstances.  


Dean had seen people like her too often. Hell, he’d been closely acquainted with some in the past, back when he was rolling high and loose. How this Meg Masters woman knew the Novaks was beyond him, but he knew if she continued to stay in their circle, she would take them for everything they owned.  


Still, that being said, he was grateful for the wine. It was possibly the strangest gathering he had ever been invited to. Meg alternately flirted with the three others, and to make matters worse, Cas kept giving him odd, probing looks. Probably because he thought Dean was as gay as a fucking post. He had to set the record straight, though he didn’t really know why it was so important that Cas not think he was gay. It shouldn’t matter if he did or did not… except… Dean really didn’t want things to be weird between them.  


“This is great as always, Amelia.” Dean groaned, taking a deep breath before bowing back down to take another impossibly huge bite. It felt so amazing to eat something that hadn’t been either deep fried or nuked in a gas station microwave.  


He mourned for the moments lost, for all the dreams he had of cooking in his own, now finished kitchen. Life had gotten in the way, and he was too busy to even eat at home, much less cook. And what was the point, anyway? It was only him.  


“Are you all right, Dean?” He heard Cas’ familiar voice, and he looked up toward the head of the table to find a set of cerulean eyes staring at him with some measure of worry.  


“Oh, yeah. Just, uh, thinking how good everything is.” Dean lied, swallowing and pushing his plate back. “I, uh…” he patted his pockets, realizing with a sinking feeling that he’d forgotten his cigarettes.  


To his surprise, Cas spoke up again. “I have a lighter for you.”  


Dean felt a smile begin to per his lips at the corners. “Yeah, okay. You, uh… lemme get my cigarettes.” They both got up, almost forgetting about the two women in the room, and neither woman said a word as they slowly filed out.  


“I left my cigarettes at home.” Dean mumbled, looking up at Cas reluctantly.  


“I know, Dean.” Dean wondered how it was possible for someone to have such a deep voice. It sent shivers down his spine.  


“Then, uh, you wanna come with me?”  


Cas nodded, glancing back toward the building they had just exited. “The longer it takes, the better.” He grunted.  


“You feeling a little uncomfortable there, champ?” Relief flooded Dean at the look on his friend’s face. Perhaps Cas hadn’t enjoyed the irritating, faux-seductive voice of Meg Masters.  


“You’re the one who is being set up.” Cas replied blankly. “You should be the one experiencing discomfort.”  


Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged, beckoning Cas to follow him as he headed toward his house.  


“You don’t seem to find her desirable.” Cas continued, and Dean got the horrible feeling this wasn’t something he was going to let go. He was just going to keep poking, trying to get Dean to explain what he’d been talking about yesterday afternoon.  


“If you’re asking whether or not I find her hot – yeah, I do think she is, but I’m not looking for a date, or a relationship.”  


“Oh.”  


Dean’s ears burned when he heard the near disappointment in the man’s voice. What the hell was he so upset about, anyway?? Dean had all but said he wasn’t fucking gay! The man should be jumping for joy! “What?” He finally demanded, whirling about at his doorstep to face Cas. “Why are you giving me that look, huh?”  


Cas stared at him, and then it was his turn to shrug. “I… thought… you enjoyed men.” He said after about a minute of awkward silence.  


Dean’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his face, wishing he’d never used his cigarette excuse. He should have just avoided Cas until this whole thing blew over! He HATED talking about this shit. IT just wasn’t natural. “I do, okay?”  


“But you said you found –“  


Dean groaned, cutting in. “I like both, okay?? I don’t… really thing being a guy or a girl matters as long as it feels good.”  


“So… yesterday, the man you were talking about --”  


“It wasn’t you, don’t worry.” Dean blurted out, unable and unwilling to allow the man to finish, his ears burning. “I’m not… you are not my type at ALL. There’s just some guy at the shop… You don’t have to worry. There is no attraction here.” He gestured between them, trying to express just how laughable the idea even was, his face the expression of disbelief.  


“Oh.” Cas cleared his throat and something in his tone made Dean look up at him. “That’s… good. Yes. I’m… I’m going to go back inside and help Amelia clean up. Come back in when you’re ready.”  


Dean watched his friend trudge away, eyes wide. “What in the actual fuck was that?” He asked aloud, his lungs on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Reptilia by The Strokes, and I am so sorry again for taking such a long time to get this out. I did make it a longer chapter, though! I was going to leave another cliffhanger as to whether or not Dean and Cas talked about the overheard conversation. Thank you ALL for the amazing comments and I love every last one of you.


	15. Demons

The rest of the evening was a bust. Meg watched Dean the entire time, making the poor man feel horribly exposed and uncomfortable. He kept trying to deflect her, but Cas proved to be of no use. The host seemed reticent, avoiding Dean at all costs, which only dampened his mood. Even after assuring him, after making sure he knew Dean wasn’t going to start getting all Annie Wilkes on him!  


“What’s wrong, Dean?” Amelia asked, sitting next to him and cocking her head. The night was coming to a close, and they were sitting alone in the Novaks’ lounge, Dean with his head bowed and a glass of wine between his hands, and Amelia with a mildly concerned expression. Meg had gone to the loo, proclaiming that she needed to be getting home soon, while Cas, well, he’d escaped to his office a half hour ago, citing work that absolutely needed to get done before midnight.  


Dean looked over at her, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leaned forward. “What makes you think something’s wrong?” He straightened up and lifted the glass to his lips, his gut sinking. The last thing he wanted was the wife of Fucking Hot as all Shit Blue Eyes to start questioning him, no matter what the motives. He wanted her so badly to be a conniving, controlling bitch. He wanted to hate her.  


Amelia leaned against him a little, bumping their shoulders together. “You got a look on your face. Jimmy gets it when something is troubling him, too.”  


Dean had to think for a few seconds before he realised she was talking about Cas. He took another drink, somewhat sheepishly. “You… you’re…” he drew a blank, unable to form a coherent thought. Cas was walking by the room, scratching his abdomen, revealing a sliver of flesh, tanned and perfectly sculpted.  


“Thinking about someone?” Amelia didn’t seem to notice her husband trailing down that hall, so focused on her guest. “Is it… your ex?”  


The sudden question caught Dean’s attention and his eyes snapped to her thin, angular face. “What do you mean?”  


“I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t mean to pry. I remembered you talking about someone, how you were close to her son. It must be hard. Just being away from Claire for a month makes me miss my little girl like crazy. I can’t imagine never seeing her again.”  


Dean nodded, a lump growing in his throat. “Yeah… Ben’s a special kid. He was… I never really wanted a kid, but he was pretty cool.”  


Amelia nodded in understanding. “Do you keep in contact with him?”  


Dean shook his head, wordless. This was too much. He couldn’t think of Ben or Lisa, not right then. He knew that the moment he started down that path it would inevitably lead to the knowledge that he had failed Ben and betrayed Lisa, and he just couldn’t do it. Not when Cas couldn’t even look him in the eye.  


Seeming to sense Dean’s distress, Amelia gave him one last smile and got to her feet. “Do you want some coffee?” She asked, smoothing her sleeveless blouse out.  


Dean looked up and shook his head. “No, uh, no thanks. Actually, I think I’d better get going.” He set the wineglass on the coffee table and straightened up to stand beside her. “Good luck on your trip. Florida’s a lot of fun.”  


“You’ve been?” Amelia stroked a lock of straw coloured hair from her face and rolled her eyes. “Of course you have. I’ll bet you’ve been all over the country.”  


“Just about.” Dean admitted and they stood in silence for a moment, staring at one another. “So… I guess I’d better get going.” Dean said again, stuffing one hand in the pocket of his jeans. 

“Thanks for the great grub.” He waved and wandered off to the door, his heart low.  


***  


Cas head the door close just as he got out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He looked down the hall toward his wife, then at the door. “Was that Dean?” He asked, his brows pulled together.  


“Yes, he just left. You know, you could have been a little nicer to him.” Amelia sounded exasperated, he could hear the frustration and the sadness, but right then it came in second to the sinking feeling in his gut.  


“I have to go ask him something.” He blurted out, feet swiftly crossing to the front door.  


“How cute.” Meg drawled, coming up behind Amelia, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. “Those two really are as thick as thieves.”  


“I hope so.” Came the wistful reply, the thick irony in her guest’s tone missing Amelia Novak by a mile.  


\--  


“Dean! Dean! Wait!” Cas called after Dean’s retreating back, jogging to catch up with him.  


The taller man turned around, his jaw set in an all too familiar grimace. “What?” He asked in a curt voice, the glow from his porch light giving the light brown hair a soft halo.  


Cas swallowed and shifted from foot to foot. “Do… you… need any help painting or… with anything? I’m sure it doesn’t look as good on the inside as it does on the out.” He stared earnestly at Dean, his heart pounding as he waited for the younger man’s answer.  


“Uh… yeah, yeah. I could use some help.” Cas relaxed as Dean’s face broke into a grin.  


“Good. Tomorrow?”  


“No, tomorrow I’m staying late to help fix up a Toyota, but Tuesday?”  


“Yes, Tuesday would be fine for me.”  


“Sweet. Hey, we can grill some burgers, too. I hope you like bacon.” Dean’s smile was almost too bright. Cas felt his whole body keen towards him and he had to clear his throat, for a few seconds were needed to formulate a reply after such an innocently dazzling display.  


“I do like bacon. And burgers.”  


“Awesome! See you Tuesday!”  


Cas stood, returning Dean’s wave with a half dazed one of his own. He watched his friend enter his own home before turning sharply and heading back, stumbling a little over a stray branch.  


***  


Dean was floating around all Monday. He was so distracted that Benny had to kick him out of the shop for nearly stapling his hand to some of the paperwork. He tried to object, saying that Benny needed him for the rush job, but his friend would not hear it. He told Dean that he was more of a liability in the shop than normal, and that if Dean didn’t get the hell out and do what he needed to do, he was going to brain him with a wrench.  


Dean grumbled at him, but truth be told he was happy to get out early. He needed to go grocery shopping for the next day, make sure his kitchen was in order, and then really plan out what he was going to do, because lately all of his conversations with Cas had ended up nightmares.  


He knew without a doubt that he’d gone overboard by the time he was at the register to purchase everything, but he couldn’t help it. It was summer, he had his own kitchen, and there was the guilty pleasure of doing something normal: inviting a friend over for dinner. Or lunch. Or whatever.  


It took him three trips to unload all his groceries, the late afternoon sun warming him to his core. For the first time in, well, for the first time since he’d returned to Lawrence, he began to think maybe he hadn’t made a mistake. Maybe the delusional chase for a happy, normal life wasn’t as stupid as he continuously told himself. Perhaps he was going to be allowed to feel happy. The idea was so novel, that it perfectly sidelined him, so much so that he had to physically stop, brown paper grocery bag in hand, and think of the implications. This was the happiest he’d been since he and Sam started talking again. And, yeah, there was that niggling background guilt tinging his every waking moment, but if Dean was perfectly honest with himself, it wouldn’t feel quite right if he wasn’t feeling at least a pale shade of guilt and self-loathing.  


Dean shook his head and chuckled. Now he was just over-thinking things. His dad had always told him he shouldn’t try to use his head for anything important. He wasn’t the smart one in the family.  


Putting the groceries away, watching the cupboards fill, the fridge becoming pleasantly stuffed, made the young man happy. He’d never lived like this before. Never had as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted, right at his fingertips. The closest he’d come to it was being engaged to Lisa. He’d spent the night there more often than not, his own studio apartment feeling like a prison cell.  


Tuesday was going to be perfect. He had beer, soft drinks, a couple pounds of ground beef, various herbs and spices, cheese (not that shitty American cheese crap, either. REAL cheese. Pepper jack, jarslberg, and cheddar), and various other foodstuffs.  


After all was said and done, the young man simply stood in his kitchen, lager in hand, a half smile on his full lips. The cool grey walls, the black and white tile, minimalistic cabinets, appliances, everything handpicked right down to the marble countertops and the copper backsplash. He was finally in HIS kitchen. There was a sense of solid accomplishment there, and that wasn’t that happened often in the man’s life… which was why, as soon as it came, Dean began to over-analyse it. Perhaps the reason why he did not have many accomplishments in his life was because, other than his precious vehicle, this house was the absolute only thing he had to show for in his whole thirty-four years of life. He had no family, no job, not even a fucking partner. Not that he deserved one. Someone as good as, say, Cas would never want him. He was the bad boy, all right, the one girls brought home to shock their parents, but no one actually wanted to keep him. He would never have what Cas had.  


***  


James Castiel Novak, for his part found it difficult to concentrate on anything. The whole hose was eerily quiet, new creaks and echoes cropping up with every movement he made. He didn’t know what to do with himself without Amelia or Claire around. He wasn’t reminded to eat or drink anything but coffee, and so he got his work finished relatively early without the distractions. It was a very strange feeling, being completely alone. Never in his life had he been without someone by his side. In his youth he’d had all his siblings, in college he had a roommate, then he’d married Amelia, so this empty house was a slightly worrisome situation.  


Cas was a very dedicated man, though, so he immersed himself in work, doing projects that he’d been putting off for the past few weeks. When his mind strayed to temptations, he buried himself in small tasks like de-scaling the teapot and fixing the minor clog in the kitchen sink. The temptations were difficult, for he knew the Bible, knew its teachings, and yet, lately, he couldn’t help feeling that perhaps they had gotten some of it wrong along the way. Had it not been written by man after all? Cas shook his head and rubbed his face, trying not to think about that. He got up from his seat and meandered from the kitchen to his office, then back to the kitchen with vague notions of finding something to eat. Food had not been the man’s top priority, and Amelia wouldn’t appreciate coming home to an emaciated corpse.  


Just when he was coming back from the fridge with a tall, cool glass of iced tea, he spotted the black Impala in Dean’s driveway. He stalled for a minute. Dean was home already? What time was it? Didn’t Dean say he was working late that night? Cas looked over at the clock on the stove, blinking owlishly. Well, it WAS seven o’clock, he supposed, so it really wasn’t that odd for him to be home. Still, though, something felt… off. Cas hesitated, then he found his feet began to take him out of the house and across the lawn.  


The door pulled open and Cas clutched his glass of iced tea tightly, lips pursed together as he was greeted by a grimacing Dean Winchester. Bloodshot eyes, stubble covering his jaw, knuckles raw. “Are you alright?” He finally asked.  


Dean stared at him, his eyes lingering on the sweating, yellow tinted glass. “Uh, yeah, I’m fi-“  


“What happened to your hand?”  


Cas saw a faint flush cross the young man’s cheeks and Dean shifted uncomfortably, half hiding the aforementioned hand.  


“Nothing, I, uh, just scraped it on some… uh… I was working in the bedroom and got my hand on some broken glass.”  


Without another word, Cas set the glass down on the front porch and took Dean’s hand, bringing it closer to eye level so he could peer at the injured appendage. There was just broken skin and dried blood. Nothing terribly bad, nothing life threatening. Scraped up knuckles.  


“Antiseptic?” Blue eyes met green and locked.  


“Whiskey.”  


Cas’ lips turned down and he grunted his displeasure, eyes narrowing dangerously.  


“Hey, it’s fine. S’not like I got into some brawl or nothing.” The false laughter was painfully apparent, and it practically broke Cas’ heart.  


“Let’s go inside.” The older man tightened his grip around Dean’s wrist and pushed gently passed him into the house. “We will clean your hand and then I’ll take a look at this… broken glass.”  


“Well, It’s not, uh, it’s not really glass. It, well, I was sort of demolishing…”  


Cas’ eyes narrowed again and he looked about suspiciously. “Show me.”  


Dean sighed in resignation and headed toward the stairs, his broad shoulders slumped.  


The air between them tightened, thickened, and without realising it, Cas relaxed the grip on Dean’s wrist, his thumb stroking the skin reassuringly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Thank you all SO much for the wonderful comments and encouragements! I seriously cannot thank you enough! It means so much to know I've got at least a few people enjoying my story! I'm having such a wonderful time writing it, too!  
> The song is Demons by Imagine Dragons.  
> From here on out they're going to get closer and closer, so it's all downhill from here, except for the few steep rises in the story's landscape.


	16. We Are Nowhere and It's Now

Late, evening sun pooled in through a half opened window in the master bedroom. Cas looked around, gazing at the soft, buttery walls and the crisp auburn trim, admiring the workmanship. It was coming together beautifully, except for the fist sized dent in the cheap, hollow core door leading to the closet. He felt the wrist tighten, making him aware he still had a possessive, protective hold on his next door neighbour. The fingers parted almost immediately and Cas allowed his hand to drop to his side. “What happen?” He asked quietly, trying to catch Dean’s eye level.  


“Nothing.”  


“Dean...”  


“Just… leave it, okay?”  


Dean was stopped from leaving the room in an angry storm by Cas latching onto his shirt and dragging him around. “Stop.” The shorter man commanded in a low, authoritative growl, the electric blue gaze piercing right through Dean’s bullshit exterior. “Talk. To. Me.” He held tightly onto the front of Dean’s flannel over shirt, walking him into the wall, refusing to allow Dean any quarter.  


“Nothing, all right? I just… I was fixing the closet and I got frustrated is all.” Dean sounded defensive, but his friend was not holding with it.  


“Bull. Shit.”  


THAT got Dean’s attention. He gaped at Cas, mouth hanging open, eyes nearly popping out of his skull.  


Cas paused, a little taken aback by the sudden change in behaviour. “What?” He asked slowly, ready for Dean to try and change the subject.  


“You swear.”  


It was Cas’ turn to redden. “I’m not a prude, Dean, I’m a father. I can swear, I simply have a child and don’t want her growing up around foul language.”  


“Oh. I just… I guess that makes sense. I don’t know. I guess it’s not that, uh, weird.”  


Cas rolled his eyes and released Dean, hands finding a resting place on his hips. “If you’d grown up with my brother Gabriel you would have heard your fair share of crude language.”  


“Oh yeah?” Dean perked up, cracking a smile as he rubbed his chin. “Sounds like he might just be okay. Is he, uh, I mean… is he… uh… normal?”  


Cas gave him a withering stare and Dean’s smile turned sheepish as he ducked his head, muttering something about always putting his foot in his mouth.  


The subject was dropped, much to Dean’s gratitude and they both made their way downstairs. Cas was itching to ask about the young man’s hand again, but despite his lack of social graces, he 

knew when to shut up. Sometimes.  


The problem was Dean. Why did he have to look so vulnerable in that moment? It made Cas want to hold him tightly to his chest. He could see the cracks in his carefully crafted skin, could almost glimpse what lay beneath, but his friend was good at hiding. As good as he was.  


“Can I get you a beer?” Dean asked when they had reached the living room, his injured hand tucked tactfully by his side, out of Cas’ sight.  


There was a silence as Cas debated whether or not to imbibe. He hadn’t touched alcohol in a long time, not since Gabriel had brought some to his dorm one night, that night when Cas had been on the verge of a mental breakdown. That memory was not a very happy one, despite the ambling, earnest conversations between the two brothers. On the other hand, though, Cas rather liked surprising Dean. The look of shock was gratifying, to say the least.  


“Yes, I think I will.” He smiled when Dean’s eyebrows lifted. Yes, he very much liked that look.  


“Okay, two brews comin’ up.”  


“Have you had dinner yet?” Cas found himself asking as he trailed after the taller man, half focusing on the broad shoulders, the way his body swayed with every step. It was a mesmerizing sight, like a snake in a charmer’s thrall.  


“Uh…”  


“I’ll take that as a no. I haven’t, either. Do you want to order something?” Hunger hadn’t really hit Cas, but the lean figure made him worry. Dean didn’t eat healthily, nor did he eat near enough for the kind of physical labour he did. Not that Cas was watching his eating habits, but here and there he noticed the lack of proper food in Dean’s diet.  


Dean’s back rolled as he shrugged and shook his head. Cas stared at him, imagining what must lay beneath the soft grey cotton, what he knew was hidden… his travelled a little lower and he licked his lips. Wow. That… wow. There was no way one man could look so… good.  


So distracted by the fluid motion of Dean Winchester’s body as he walked, that Cas really didn’t notice the young man’s head twist about. He did notice him stop, though, and immediately Cas’ gaze snapped up.  


Dean had turned around and was grinning.  


“What?” He asked irritably, his heart throbbing in a most uncomfortably fashion. Surely Dean hadn’t caught him. He shouldn’t have! Damn his weak mind. Damn his inability to withstand temptation!  


“How about I make us some grilled cheese instead of ordering in? I’m wicked good with a cast iron skillet and a stove.” The green eyes sparkled with something Cas couldn’t quite determine and it made him nervous.  


“Alright…” he answered slowly.  


Cas pulled up a chair, watching Dean as he took blocks of cheese and bags of deli meat from the refrigerator. He was saying something about the lack of proper delis in Lawrence, but Cas wasn’t exactly listening. He was caught again. Dean kept bending, stretching, and moving. He would stoop over to take something from the crisper, his back arched inward, his backside pushed out. Then he would straighten up and stretch, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of back with tendrils of ink escaping up inside his shirt.  


Cas wanted to see more. He wanted to haul Dean’s shirt from his chest and run his hands down the man’s back. He wanted to trace each letter imprinted on the taught skin. He wanted to kiss the images and ask what they meant.  


A cold bottle was placed next to his elbow, shaking the brunette from his musings. He blinked his baby blue eyes up at Dean, thanking him haltingly as he tried to clear his mind of the thoughts that were grasping at his mental faculties.  


Dean smirked. “No problem, man.” Cas wanted to slap that smirk off his face – just to see those vibrant orbs widen in shock.  


Dean hummed while he cooked, some 80s song, no doubt, but it sounded nice. The room filled with sizzling sounds, delightfully aromatic scents, and lyrical notes dripping from Dean’s full lips. It lulled Cas, comforted him. He took a sip of his beer, lazily watching the man opposite cook. It was nice.  


“My mother used to make grilled cheese for me.” Cas remarked when Dean handed him a plate.  


“Oh yeah? Were they good?”  


“No,” Cas laughed and shook his head, “she… couldn’t cook by any means.” He smiled wistfully and looked down at the plate, at the huge cheese and meat filled sandwich in front of him. “I used to complain every time she made them… what I wouldn’t give for one now.” He took a bite, making an appreciative noise. It was the best grilled cheese he’d ever had.  


“I, uh, used to make these for Sam when we were little. When dad got paid I’d wait until he was passed out drunk, then I’d take 20 bucks from his wallet and sneak out of the place to get pastrami or corned beef or even bologna. I’d get bread and cheese and chips and when Dad’d leave for… work I’d grill Sammy up one of these and put on Star Wars.” Dean smiled and shook his head at the memories. “He used to tell me I was the best cook in the world.”  


“At least you could cook. After… after my mother died, my brother Michael decided it was up to him to cook and clean. He thought that quinoa and hamburger made a nutritious meal.” The older of the two made a sour expression as he shook his head at the thought.  


“I don’t even know what quinoa – quina? Whatever. I don’t even know what that is. It sounds like something Sammy’d have a fucking hard on over.” Dean laughed and took a bite of his own sandwich.  


“It’s some sort of grain that tastes like dirt.” Cas grumbled in explanation.  


They both smiled and talked about their childhoods – parts of them – neither man really wanting to delve deep into the ins and outs of their youths.  


Cas drank several beers, growing increasingly loose and easy around the younger man, smiles invading the silences every few minutes. It was easy talking to Dean. He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. Cas hadn’t felt such ease around another human in years… not since before… before he’d realised…  


“You want another beer?” He heard Dean ask, and he looked up at him from the sofa where they had both had been sitting for the last hour and a half. Cas nodded and shrugged, making a “why the hell not” face.  


“You know… you’re a very… good looking man.” He said as Dean handed him another bottle. “I can’t believe you’re single.” He tried lifting the beer to his lips, but missed by several inches. He looked up again, ready to complain about the clearly defective bottle, when he saw Dean’s face.  


He was blushing, full on pink cheeks, red ears, blushing. Cas laughed and finally managed to take a drink. “You’re adorable.” He said decisively, very satisfied with Dean’s reaction.  


“And you are hella drunk.” Dean rolled his eyes. “C’mon, move over.”  


Cas giggled and scooted over, leaving sideways, staring at Dean’s face. He was beautiful. Cas had the sudden urge to count the freckles on his nose, to undress him and see just how far they trailed down.  


“Okay, you gotta stop starin’ at me. I’m not gonna be able to concentrate on anything if you keep doing that.” Dean elbowed him and smiled shyly.  


“Yeeaah.” Cas leaned his head forward, narrowing his eyes slightly to focus a little better.  


“Dude. I mean it.”  


“Okay…”  


“Dude, Cas.”  


“Yeah, okay.” Cas smiled at him one last time, then focused his attention on the TV. It was something about remodelling old houses or… furniture or something. He didn’t notice Dean’s small smile, nor the satisfied look on his handsome face.  


***  


Dean fell asleep quickly that night. Cas had left around two AM and Dean had slowly, staggeringly made his way upstairs. He lay in his bed, staring at the water damaged ceiling and picturing Cas’ drunken, happy face. It had seemed like he’d almost been flirting. He certainly hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of Dean. And the older Winchester brother would be lying if he said it wasn’t… gratifying to say the least.  


The next morning dawned too soon. Sun splattered over Dean’s face, boring into his eye sockets. “Fucking hell.” He swore, climbing out of bed and slouching toward the window, his eyes half shut against the glare. He tugged the window curtains closed, grumbling and falling back into bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the short chapter, but as you can see, things are beginning to roll faster and faster between our boys. I'm almost caught up with my brown binder, so either I will be updating faster after I'm through with the stuff I've pre-written, or it will take me a little longer. Like always, I would like to thank each and every one of you for commenting and giving me such great encouragements!  
> The song is We Are Nowhere and It's Now by Bright Eyes.


	17. The Maker Makes

“Dean.”  


“Wha… fuck off..”  


“Dean!”  


Dean felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him.  


“Back OFF, Sammy!” He growled, flinging his arm backwards, only to have his wrist captured before it made contact with anything solid.  


“Dean, it’s… Ja… it’s Cas.”  


Dean cracked an eye open and, sure enough, Cas’ face swam into view. “Ooohh... hey Casss. Morning.”  


“Dean, it’s already twelve in the afternoon.”  


“What?”  


“Dean, it’s twelve PM. You haven’t been to work yet.”  


That got Dean’s attention. His eyes snapped open and he swore loudly. Scrambling up and out of bed, the younger man searched frantically for his phone, heart racing as his feet sped down the stairs.  


Five missed calls. Three voicemails. Jesus shit! This was not a good way to start the fucking day. “Cas, I’m heading out. Will you lock the door after you?” Dean hollered up the stairs, grabbing his keys and making a break for the front door, dialling Benny’s number as he ran.  


“Well, you’re not dead.” Benny drawled when Dean burst into the shop. “Though,” the Cajun looked his friend up and down. “You look like you should be.”  


“I’m so fucking sorry, Benny. So fucking sorry.” Dean dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to clean himself up as best he could.  


“Wash up in the bathroom.” Benny jerked his thumb toward the room and Dean nodded, giving him an apologetic half smile. “So, why were you four hours late?” Benny asked as soon as Dean stepped out of the washroom looking slightly more human.  


There was a moment of guilty silence as both men regarded one another evenly.  


“I, uh, I had Cas over and we, we…”  


“Jesus, brother, you didn’t sleep with him, did you?”  


Dean’s ears stung and he gaped at Benny. “Fuck! No! God, Benny, he’s MARRIED. I ain’t gonna sleep with him!”  


“Mmm…”  


“I didn’t fuck him, Benny.”  


“Okay, I believe you.”  


The poor young man’s ears burned for an hour after that awkward conversation, even after Benny apologised, but it wasn’t as shocking or as bad as the conversation he had on the way back home after his shift ended.  


All in all his day had been an alright one, it was busy in the shop, and both Dean and Benny were kept busy. Dean was thankful for the work, but even happier when the job was finally done and he was able to leave for the night. He was in a relatively good mood, which was ever increasing as he anticipated the evening ahead of him. Dinner with Cas, talking with Cas… breathing, seeing, hearing… and then his phone rang.  


Charlie, the monster of a woman that she was, managed to hone in on what he didn’t want to talk about and then tell him what he didn’t want to hear. And he REALLY didn’t want to hear encouragement.  


“I think you should do it.” She said sweetly, causing Dean to nearly choke.  


“Bradbury, he’s MARRIED!” It came out as a muted scream, Dean’s hands firmly fixed on his steering wheel as he navigated through traffic.  


His friend scoffed and he heard her rummage about on the other end of the phone. “Well, sure he is, Deanie, but he’s obviously sexually repressed. I mean, the way you describe it, the man’s probably been starving for years! He needs some good ‘ole dick, Dean, and who better to give it to him than his hunk next door neighbour?”  


“Hey!”  


“Sorry,” she chucked evilly, “but I think he really wants you, Dean. I think he’s one of those poor closeted gays who don’t even realise what they want in life.”  


“Dude, Charlie, I’m NOT going to bang a married man. Especially not Cas. It would RUIN his life.”  


“Or maybe just be the best orgasmic experience he’s ever haaaad!”  


“CHARLIE!”  


“Okay, okay, but you know you need a whirl and he needs to nut up.”  


He could hear the smile on her lips and it made him smile just a little in return. “Gee, thanks.”  


“Love ya, Winchester.” Charlie chirped at him.  


“Yeah, yeah. Look, I’m home now. I’ll, uh, I’ll call you later.”  


“Seriously, bro. We need to have our skype sesh soon.”  


“Yeah, of course. I gotta show you the house. Give you a tour.”  


“Awesome! Ttfn!”  


“Okay, Charlie. Talk to you later.”  


Dean got out of his car and, instead of heading to his house, he went straight next door and rang the bell, Charlie’s words still floating around in the back of his head.  


“Uh, hey. We still on for dinner?” He asked when a dark, scruffy head poked around the door.  


“Is it that time already?” Cas’ gravelly voice went straight to Dean’s gut and he smiled at the older man a bit dreamily.  


“Nah, it’s actually almost seven. I stayed later because of this morning. Thanks, by the way, for the wakeup call.”  


Cas’s smile was tentative and shy and Dean wanted to kiss it off. “It was no trouble. I had just woken up, myself.”  


“Then… do you think you could save my bacon one more time, please?” Dean batted his lashes winningly at the older man, leaning against the door.  


“By?” The bright blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.  


“I don’t have a grill yet. Could you be awesome and let me borrow yours for dinner tonight?”  


“Oh. Yes, of course.”  


“Sweeeeeeeeeeeet!” Dean grinned and winked at Cas. “I’ll be right back with the stuff.”  


“I’ll help.”  


They quickly crossed over to Dean’s house and Cas let out a grunt of surprise when Dean began pulling out all the food he’d bought for dinner.  


“Before you even start telling me I went overboard, you’ve spent the better part of a month helping me fix up this old house. It’s the least I could do.”” Dean said before Cas had a chance to even open his mouth on the subject.  


Cas glared a little. “How did you know?”  


Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, your face is a wonderfully expressive thing. It doesn’t take much for me to figure out what’s going on behind that skull of yours.” The younger man noted the lack of objection to slightly flirtatious tone, and he smirked to himself.  


They headed back next door laden with the fruits of Dean’s first grocery shopping escapade in years. Dean had to laugh when Cas asked him where the hamburger patties were, his sea green eyes dancing with mirth at the mild irritation on Cas’ face.  


“If I’m gonna grill, I’m gonna do it the right way. You are gonna get a fucking boner when you taste one, trust me. I’m real good with meat.” Dean snickered inwardly at his, in his mind, clever word play.  


Cas’ answer, however, gave him pause.  


“I’ll bet you are.” The man said in an amused tone, making Dean raise his eyebrows in a perfect arch.  


Was that… Did he…? Well, well, well. It appeared as though the evening was just going to get more and more interesting. Dean turned to the counter and took out a few packages of freshly ground chuck.  


They worked happily side by side until the job was done. Dean instructed Cas on the proper way to make a hamburger, seasoning, and giving it a lot of love as it was made. His every move was watched intently, giving the poor man a giddy sense of self-importance, his chest constricting whenever their shoulders brushed. Dean followed his friend outside and waited as Cas tried, unsuccessfully, to light the grill.  


After two minutes it became apparent that the dark haired man had absolutely no idea what he was doing, so Dean stepped in. “Here,” he murmured, gently pushing Cas aside and taking the lighter from him, their hands touching a little longer than strictly necessary.  


Dean had the grill up and running in minutes, but when Cas tried to put hamburgers on it, he stepped in again.  


“We have to wait until it’s heated! The coals need to burn down a little, otherwise we’ll ruin the burgers, and nobody wants that! I got some quick start ones, though, so it should only take about twenty minutes. In the meantime… beer?”  


Dean watched the hesitance turn to defiance in Cas’ eyes, as though he had something to prove to the world. And sure enough, Cas gave him a sharp nod.  


A few minutes later, Dean produced a six pack, putting for of them in the fridge and cracking open the other two. “I got ‘em from some local microbrewery.” He said, clinking the glass against Cas’ bottle and taking a gulp.  


It was a hot evening, summer was in full swing and the air was heavy between them. Dean felt his back sweating through the shirt, but he didn’t mind. Every once in a while a warm breeze would waft through the yard, carrying with it the scent of sizzling coals and cooling him down. On top of that, Cas was in a similar condition, his shirt sticking to his chest, the sweat glistening on his neck as he sat sprawled in the lawn chair. It was a good night. Dean hadn’t felt this relaxed and peaceful in… well, longer than he could remember. His hand throbbed a little now and then, but it was already beginning to heal, and the beer helped dull the twinges.  


“I haven’t seen you running lately.” He remarked, scooting his chair a little closer.  


“Oh, well, I’ve begun doing it before sunrise.” Cas drawled, his eyes closed against the sun’s last rays. “It’s easier to get it done then, not as hot.”  


“You’ll have to wait for me sometime.”  


Cas cracked one eye open and gave him a blank look. “You… jog?” He asked dubiously.  


“Well… okay, no, but I would do it with you. I like watching you run.”  


Cas turned toward him, clearing his throat. “Well… maybe… maybe I’ll wait, then.” He mumbled, gazing at Dean’s hand. “It’s… very good for your heart after all.”  


Dean chuckled and smiled down at his beer. “Yeah, I’ll bet it is.” He sighed.  


They ended up talking about nothing in particular until Dean proclaimed that the coals were ready to cook over. He gestured to Cas to put the burgers on, and watched with some amusement as the man gingerly placed the patties over the blazing embers.  


“No, no no.” He laughed, grabbing one of Cas’ hands and guiding it along. “You can’t just drop them on. You gotta show them some love. Don’t be afraid of the fire.” Dean enjoyed every moment of the contact as he held Cas’ hand in the name of teaching. He stood behind him, their bodies almost touching as he murmured instructions, taking swigs of beer after every sentence.  


Cas, for his part, didn’t seem to mind the proximity. Even after Dean dropped his hand, the man said nothing about the way he hovered by his shoulder. In fact, if Dean didn’t know better, he’d say that Cas was brushing up against him more than strictly necessary. So he stayed there, watching the grill, aching to take that half step, yet too afraid to inch closer.  


They stayed like that until the burgers were done, Dean showing Cas how to flip them, to test their temperature. Comfortable in their closeness.  


The time passed terribly quickly for the two men, but it was filled with smiles and precious silences. The minutes seemed to flow by like a babbling brook, both of them talking and laughing. Some heretofore unknown barrier seemed to have broken, and Dean found himself recounting youthful memories to a smiling audience as they ate their dinner.  


“So I put Nair in his shampoo. He was pissed, but honestly, he completely deserved it! I mean, who DOES that?? I HAD it in the bag and he just fuckin’ ruined the whole thing.”  


Cas chuckled and nodded. “It sounds like you two are very close.” He observed with a fond nod, sipping at his third beer.  


“Yeah… you’d think that. Sammy and me… we used to be real close, but after high school… I guess it started when he started getting in fights with dad.” Dean looked up and found Cas’ gaze directly on him. No pity or sympathy, just interest.  


“Well, uh,… he, uh… he resented the old man, you know? Thought he was too strict. Ordering us around – like soldiers, Sam used to say – never telling us important stuff. I hated hearing them bicker. It reminded me of when mom and…” Dean shook his head. “Dad used to tell me to get him under control or he’d have to. I never wanted Sammy to get hurt, so I always tried to smooth things over. I guess it became a habit, but it really kind of fucked our relationship. Sam got into college and just… stopped talking to me. We didn’t talk for years. He blamed me for always taking Dad’s side despite everything. He called me Dad’s toy soldier. For some reason he thought Dad hated him. Wanted him gone. But that’s bullshit. The old man was proud of him. He used to get so pissed whenever I’d do something wrong. I was setting a bad example for Sam. He didn’t want Sam to go down the same path I did. Sam… Sam was the one with the brains. The one who was gonna make something of himself.” Dean took another sip of his beer and sighed, staring at the brown glass bottle. “Hell, I remember this one time I was so mad at him… fuck, I don’t even remember what for. But I stole some money out of his wallet and went drinking. I was just a stupid kid, you know? ‘bout fifteen. I found this little dive bar ‘bout five miles from the hotel. First time I’d had anything more than beer, and the guys there just kept buying me drink after drink. They were real nice, too. I don’t remember a whole lot about it, but I remember Dad bustin’ through the door and hauling me out of there by my shirt. When he got to the car I thought he was gonna kill me. I’d never heard him shout so loud. He beat my ass good that night. I hadn’t seen him that mad since Sammy broke his arm riding on the bars of my bike.” Dean finished his beer, wrinkling his nose at the memory.  


“Is your father still alive?”  


Dean looked up at his friend, at the unreadable expression in the cerulean gaze.  


“What? Yeah. He just got outta jail a little while ago. I haven’t seen him in about a year now.”  


Cas nodded and pushed the remaining pickle bits around his plate. “I miss my family.” He said quietly.  


“Didn’t you grow up around here?” Dean asked, grateful for the change in subject.  


“Well, yes, and several of my siblings do live in the surrounding areas. Hester is still here, as is Ezekiel. My brother Samandriel is in Topeka, so I see him on holidays, but Balthazaar is in England now. He’s an art curator at the Tate, and Gabriel is travelling the globe doing… well, doing God only knows what. My brother Michael is on a pilgrimage in Africa right now with his wife and son…”  


“Well, hey, at least you got some family here, right?”  


Cas shook his head. “Ezekiel is much older than I, and he… doesn’t approve of me greatly. He… I have an uncle Zachariah, and… Ezekiel is very close to him. Unfortunately… he and Hester, Ezekiel, have come to the conclusion, with the help of our uncle, that I have fallen to the wayside because I am not able to attend church as often as they deem correct. And… well, when I married Amelia, they did not think I was doing right by her, they thought I was shirking my duties as a husband.”  


Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “But what about everyone else? You got a huge ass family, right? They can’t all think you’re a bad person.”  


Cas looked down at his hands and sighed. “I did have a large family. Unfortunately my sister Muriel died of breast cancer two years ago, and…” he hesitated, then, his shoulders slumped a little. “My sister Anna and my brother Bartholomew died in a car accident when I was young.”  


“Oh… shit, man, I’m sorry.”  


“It’s quite alright. It happened so long ago now… I don’t think about it often.”  


“Did… your mom die, too? In the accident?”  


Cas’ head shot up and he stared at Dean, a shocked expression on his handsome face. “How did…?"  


Dean shrugged. “Lucky guess.” He said quietly, shrugging. “What… what happened?”  


Cas licked his lips, rubbing his hands over the denim covering his knees, focusing on the fabric. “It… well… I know logically that it wasn’t my fault, but… when I was a boy I used to play baseball. One day I stayed late after practice to help a friend study for an upcoming test, and… it got bad.. Anna and Bartholomew had just got done with choir practice, so mother went to get them first. There was a severe thunderstorm warning, and the roads were slick. The rain was pelting down so quickly, it almost turned to ice. I waited for three hours before Michael and Balthazar came to pick me up in my father’s old truck. I knew what had happened just by the looks on their faces.”  


Despite his better judgement, Dean found himself reaching forward and grasping Cas’ hand protectively. “Hey, Cas, that wasn’t on you, man. There was no way you could have stopped it. What was she supposed to do? Leave you at school all night during a storm?”  


“I know. I know. But… ordinarily I was the first one to be picked up. If I hadn’t stayed late we would have been in our driveway by then. We would have been home safe.”  


“There was no way you could have known.”  


Dean’s breath hitched as Cas’ blue eyes lifted to his. The sorrow there was terrible and old, reeking of a guilt Dean knew all too well.  


“I am aware.” His friend said in a world weary tone.  


“But that doesn’t stop it from hurting. I understand.”  


“After she died, my father retreated into himself. He would sit in his office for hours just reading. I think he forgot we existed. He left for Wisconsin twelve years ago. No one has heard from him since. We don’t even know his address.”  


“Maybe you’re better off without him.” Dean suggested, squeezing Cas’ hand and giving him a supportive smile. “Sometimes the best thing to do is just… forget.”  


They gazed at one another for long moments before Cas cleared his throat. “We should probably get some of this cleaned up.” He said softly.  


Dean blinked, then pulled his hand away. “Yeah, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhh!!! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR AMAZING COMMENTS!! This fic is happening BECAUSE OF YOU ALL!! You give me the strength to go on, to keep writing even when I feel as though I cannot type another word. Thank you, thank you, thank you! We are drawing closer to the moment. Our boys are talking, testing, smiling. The only question is.... will it end happily?  
> The chapter song is Maker Makes by Rufus Wainwright.


	18. Your Green Jacket

They cleared the mess quietly, each stuck in their own world. Dean kept replaying the earlier moment. Over and over and over he imagined holding the warm, large hand in his own, a dreamy smile on his face, his heart pounding heavily. Cas hadn’t pulled away from him. And what had that look been?  


There was no way of knowing for sure, but a seed of suspicion had been planted in Dean’s brain and was quickly germinating. What did it all mean? Cas was married, yeah, but what if… what if Charlie was right? What if he was in the closet? Or maybe he was bi. But…. Still, Amelia… but….  


“It’s hard to imagine that so many of the stars up there are dead. All we see is the reflection of life shining down on us.” Cas interrupted, his aqua eyes gazing thoughtfully toward the evening sky. He was so beautiful, his face, usually lined with the troubles of life and a severe lack of sleep, appeared ten years younger in that moment.  


“Yeah,” Dean murmured, lost in Cas’ soft expression, “it’s kind of depressing.”  


“I never thought of it as such. I like to think that they were so beautiful God couldn’t bear to take them away from us so soon. Their light lives on even after they’re gone to bring pleasure to those of us here on earth.”  


Dean blinked, a lump growing in his throat. “I think…” he began, but then he shook his head and looked down at his hands. If there was a god, Dean suspected he would command the stars to shine just to make James Castiel Novak smile. “Hey, Cas,” he reached out and touched the man’s forearm suddenly.  


Cas half turned to look at him, serene and ethereal under the blanket of night.  


“I… wanted to tell you how…” he trailed off again, trying to gather the courage to speak words that were pulsating against his tongue, begging to be spoken.  


“Yes?” Cas blinked and smiled encouragingly.  


Dean didn’t smile back, he didn’t trust himself to. “How…” his feet took a step forward almost involuntarily, leaving barely three inches between them. “How…”  


Just then the opening riff of Smoke on the Water played in the dead quiet, sending shock signals up Dean’s back, causing him to nearly jump from his skin. “Oh! Shit!! Sorry! I have to take this.” He grinned sheepishly and dug in his back pocket for the offending mobile, silently cursing.  


It was Sam. He swiped his thumb across the screen, trying not to snap. “Yeah? What’s up, Sammy?”  


“Hey! Dude!” Sam’s voice sounded slightly scratchy, as though speaking through a tunnel, but even that could not disguise the obvious excitement. “Jess and I were just looking at dates to come out there, and we were thinking August 1st! We figured we could stay for a week or so, you know, to help out.” In the background Dean could hear Jessica talking at Sam, telling him something, laughing.  


“Seriously?? Next month??” Dean forgot about everything else in that moment, his whole face lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “Dude! That’s AWESOME!! I got the guestroom basically all done! You guys can stay in there!!”  


Sammy began to chatter away, but Dean couldn’t really hear what he was saying. His voice crackled in and out of reception, giving his older brother only hints of what he was trying to get at.  


“Hey, dude, are you driving or something, cause you’re breaking up real bad.”  


“Yeah, I’m taking Jess out to dinner.”  


“I can hardly hear you, man.”  


“Oh, okay. Well, we’ll talk later, yeah? See you in a few weeks! Jess says bye!” Dean heard Jess’ voice again, laughing as she bid her farewell.  


“Yeah, see you in August!” Dean put his phone back in the pocket of his jeans and whipped about, eyes round with pleasure. “Sam’s coming to visit in August!!” He cried out, leaping forward and pulling Cas into a huge hug. “Fuck! I can’t believe it!!”  


Cas laughed and hugged him back. “That’s great, Dean.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled, sparkling with joy for his friend. “I know you miss him.” He patted Dean’s shoulder.  


The younger man watched Cas’ smile for a second, then he dropped his head to his shoulder, his arms tightening around Cas’ waist. “Thank you, Cas.” He whispered, his hands stretching across the brunette’s sides  


“What are you thanking me for?” He heard the gravelly voice reply, sending shivers down his spine.  


Dean sighed, then took a step back to look at the man that had quickly become his very best friend. “For… everything, man. All of it. It means a lot to me.”  


Cas’ gaze dropped, his cheeks darkening. There was a quiet, calming quality to the beautiful man in front of him, and Dean knew of nothing that helped him more than just being in Cas’ presence. Cas had become the stability Dean had always craved. Love had been etched in the cracks of his skin, and now the poor man did not know what to do.  


“I’m… gonna hit the hay, now.” Dean murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “See ya tomorrow.” He waved and headed back to his house, mixed emotions draining any bit of energy he had left.  


Honestly, there hadn’t been a true moment of revelation. No sudden epiphany of love. It had been gradual and damning until Dean Winchester could no longer breathe without the knowledge of adoration. It seared his insides, a blaze beneath the forge. He wondered if Cas guessed. It was pretty obvious by now. Dean rubbed a hand across his face, climbing the stairs to his bed. By now the inner turmoil had reached such a cacophony that nothing else registered to the world weary man. He fell onto his bed, shoes and socks still firmly ensconced on his feet. Love was depressing. He felt like a man drowning with no chance of escape.  


When he woke up the next morning he found himself wishing that the previous night hadn’t happened. Dean dressed for work, his eyes blood shot as he tugged his jeans on, hating himself with every movement he made. Last night… no, he hadn’t done anything, but the regret was still there. Dean could still feel Cas; skin against his nose, could still smell the soap and the faint scent of lavender shampoo.  


The young man shook himself and tugged a baseball cap on over his messy hair. He stepped outside, squinting in the mid-morning light. Another overly hot, sunny day. Sometimes Dean wished he’d just bought a house in Minnesota. Sure, it snowed six months out of the year, but this dry heat was never something he’d have to deal with.  


“Hey, Dean.”  


Dean looked up and spotted his neighbour standing near the driveway. “Oh, hey Cas.”  


“I just… I w anted to say thank you for dinner. I’ll be over around five to help with the house.” The deep blue eyes seemed to penetrate Dean’s very core, and it made him feel wildly uncomfortable.  


“Eh, you don’t really have to do that. You’ve already helped me so much.” Dean protested, scratching the back of his neck as he tried not to stare at the way the soft cotton t-shirt stretched across the man’s chest in such a pleasing fashion.  


“Dean. I’ll see you after work.” Cas’ voice brooked no opposition, his mouth set in a determined line. The gruff finality of it sent delicious flip flop sensations straight to Dean’s groin. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine just how good Cas would be at giving orders…  


“Yes sir.” He grinned and gave his friend a half salute. “You should, uh, figure out what you want for dinner tonight and text me so I can pick something up.”  


Cas’ lips softened and he nodded. “Yes, I’ll do that. Tonight, then.”  


“Yeah! See you!”  


“Have a good day at work.”  


Dean waved, laughing a little. “I will, Cas. Thanks.” He hopped in his car and drove off with much lighter spirits. Cas didn’t hate him.  


\---  


Work was slow that day, so Dean tinkered with his own baby, rotating her tyres, giving her an oil change, and doing some other basic maintenance. He helped Benny do some inventory, both the men discussing Dean’s future plans to start restoring vehicles.  


Already Benny had found some clients excited to see exactly what Dean could do, the only problem was the fact that Dean didn’t have a place to set up shop. He was pouring all of his money and time into the house, and didn’t have any energy to go out looking for a shop.  


“You should think about doing it here, brother.” Benny said in an offhanded manner, pulling a bench out from the wall and sweeping behind it. “We could partner up. I’ve got too much work to do by myself, and that way you wouldn’t have to worry about finding some decent shop near you.”  


Dean paused in his work, a wet cloth in his hand, suds dripping from his forearms. “What? Really?” He asked, glass green eyes widening. “You… I mean… would there be enough room?”  


“Of course there would be. Half of my clients already want you to look at their cars. It makes the most sense.” Benny shrugged and pushed the bench back. “Just think about it, yeah?”  


“Hell yes! I’ll… yeah! That sounds… amazing!” Dean grinned, ducking his head. “We’ll have to talk about it a little more, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.”  


Benny grunted in agreement, and they turned their attention to cleaning the shop.  


Around four in the afternoon Dean grabbed his cap and told Benny he was leaving. The work was done, and at that point it would just be milling about. He wanted to be home, anyway. Cas would be thrilled he got out earlier, and the knowledge he had someone waiting for him was intoxicating. They could eat lunch and talk for a little while before getting to work.  


He had just gotten in his car and was about to call Cas when his phone rang. He frowned. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but he answered anyway. “This is Dean Winchester,” he said in a carefully crafted business-like tone.  


“Son.”  


As soon as he heard the voice, all the excitement for the evening flooded from the young man. His hand tightened around the wheel and he clenched his teeth. “Oh,” he began, trying not to let the reticence creep into his tone. “Hi. What’s wrong?”  


“Why does something have to be wrong for me to call my oldest son, Dean?” The reproachful manner of John Winchester’s reply set Dean’s teeth on edge.  


“Sorry, sir. I, uhm, no. Obviously it doesn’t.” He hurried, his gut clenching as he waited for the anvil to land.  


“I heard you might need help on your house. Bobby tells me it’s a fine place.” His father began, and the sickly sweet way he spoke made Dean’s gut clench. “You should have sent me some pictures.”  


Bobby? John was talking to Bobby again? Dean’s fingers flexed around the phone as though considering throwing it out of the window and driving off at full speed. “Uh, sorry. I haven’t really had the chance.”  


“That’s not what I hear. You gave Bobby a tour during a video chat. It seems I’m the only one you haven’t told jack shit about it. Are you trying to exclude your father, Dean? I’m your own flesh and blood.” The slow, simmering anger was nearly palpable, and it sent Dean spiralling back to his youth. He swallowed hard, tempted to pull off the road, just so he could get himself together. “You don’t even have a computer.” He tried to laugh, but it ended up sounding hollow.  


“I’m sure that’s the reason, Dean, and I forgive you. I know you don’t think about other peoples’ feelings like normal people do. It’s just something you gotta work on. I know you don’t mean to turn people against me.”  


Before Dean could say anything, his expression the perfect picture of shocked, hurt confusion, his father was talking again.  


“But since I know you and me haven’t been close lately – you say you’re too busy to talk and I choose to believe that – I was thinking about coming to stay with you for a week or two and give you a helping hand in August.”  


Dean had to slam on his breaks, nearly blowing a stoplight. “What?? What? Why… uh, no. That’s okay. I’m almost done with it. I have a friend helping me most days. He’s, uh…”  


“He?” John Winchester broke in, growling a little.  


“Yeah, uh, he and his wife are really nice.” Dean’s heart began to slam into his ribs, his breathing barely controlled. Honestly, he didn’t know why he was so worried about his dad finding out about Cas. He was a grown-ass man, and he could defend himself!!  


“Oh.” The storm had passed, and Dean exhaled a small sigh of relief. “Well…”  


“Hey, uh, I gotta go. I’m driving, and, uh, I gotta go. There’s a cop.”  


“Alright, son.”  


Dean hung up and finished the drive in complete silence. He knew he was a shitty son. He really shouldn’t be blowing his dad off like that. His dad had done everything for him and his little brother. 

Why couldn’t he just… be a fucking man and actually talk to his dad?  


How would he be able to face Cas now? He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so amazing! I'm sorry it took me so long, but I had a very long trip and then days and days of work after that. The song is Your Green Jacket by Sinead O'Connor, and it's rather ridiculous how closely the song fits with Cas and Dean. Hehe.


	19. Undisclosed Desires

Cas was being good. He was working on his latest job when he heard the vibrating rumble of Dean’s Impala come to rest next door. It wasn’t even four yet, but Dean had returned home. Cas fidgeted in his chair, trying to make himself stay. Just because Dean was home early did not mean that he got to invade the man’s home. Dean probably wanted a little space.  


That thought, of course, only lasted five minutes. He squirmed about for what seemed like an hour, trying to distract himself, until he glanced at the little clock in the corner of his screen ten times in the space of a minute and just shot straight out of his chair in frustration.  


He was out of the house in a flash, trying to make it seem casual as he strode across the verdant lawn and into his neighbour’s house – not even bothering to knock. “Dean?” He called, looking about for any sign of the younger man.  


A loud thud was heard from up the stairs and in moments they met halfway to Dean’s bedroom.  


“Cas, what are you –“  


“Dean what are you –“  


They both stopped and laughed a little.  


“I… saw you were home early and thought we could get an early dinner before starting on the house.” He wasn’t.  


Dean coughed and shifted about. “Oh, uh… I wasn’t really hungry.” He was.  


Cas lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. “Dean, don’t lie to me. What’s going on. You have that… that look.”  


“What?” Dean blustered, his brows beetling together in an extremely obvious fashion.  


Without even bothering to answer, Cas took Dean’s hand and lead him into the living room, inwardly rolling his eyes. Honestly. Dean was about as easy to read as a child’s book.  


_Dean comes home early.  
_

_Dean is unhappy.  
_

_See Dean fib.  
_

_Cas helps Dean.  
_

The shorter man couldn’t help but grin a little at the thought. He sat Dean down on the couch and plopped next to him, turning to his friend. “Sit here.” He commanded, squeezing Dean’s hand comfortingly. “I’m going to get you a beer and you’re going to tell me what happened.” Cas patted the young man’s knee and pulled himself up with a grunt. “I’ll be right back.”  


He retrieved two beers and a packet of crisps, pausing at the open refrigerator door, gathering his strength and determination. It took him reminding himself of the conversation he and Dean had had before Amelia left. Cas nodded dejectedly, closing the door. Dean didn’t find him attractive, and… he most likely liked someone else.  


“Here,” Cas called, handing the bottle to his friend and sitting next to him with his own. “Now. Spill.” He watched intently as Dean cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  


“It’s nothing, Cas. Really.”  


The look of determination on Cas’ face seemed to jostle Dean’s tongue, though, because after a few moments of silence, he was shrugging and gulping down the beer. “I don’t know. I got a call from my dad. He wants to come over and help with the house, but… I don’t really WANT him…” Dean trailed off, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I gotta…” he got up and practically ran out of the room. Cas could hear footsteps on the stairs, but instead of turning to the bathroom like Cas expected, the footsteps stopped on the opposite end, in his bedroom.  


After ten minutes, Cas got up and went after him, his heart heavy. He didn’t bother knocking on the door, but instead slipped inside, coming to a standstill by the entry. His heart nearly stopped when he saw what lay before him.  


The room was dark, long royal blue curtains eclipsed all but a sliver of the late afternoon sun. The room was bare except for a long, wide bed shoved in the far corner. Beside it sat an old, ornately carved teak wood nightstand covered in photographs and books, including a leather-bound tome. The rich peacock blue decorating most of the walls was accented by a light cloud blue colour that covered the panel by the head of the bed.  


Cas’ gaze was drawn, however, to the figure sitting huddled on the floor, crouched by the foot of the bed. His arms were wrapped about his legs and his face was buried in the denim covered knees. Cas didn’t know what to do at first, his whole body had seemingly turned to ice.  


“Sorry,” he heard the younger man say as he watched him get up from his seat. “I have a headache and I just… can’t do anything right now.”  


Two seconds. Two seconds was all the time it took to stride over to where Dean was standing and push him down on the bed. Before the surprised man could even react, Cas had clambered next to him, the shadows of the darkened room casting his face in gloom.  


“You don’t have to talk to me, Dean, but I’m going to sit right here, right next to you, until you stop trying to bullshit me when I know you’re hurting.” Cas said in a low voice, giving his friend enough space so that they weren’t touching, but staying close enough to feel the heat radiating from Dean’s shoulder.  


Time seemed not to pass in that room. They did not notice the minutes stretching into hours, the sun slowly gravitating downwards behind the heavy drapes. Even the silence seemed quite natural, like an old friend.  


After a while Dean slumped against Cas, his eyes closed. Unsure if he was asleep or not, the older man stayed there, allowing the intimate touch with a small, half indulgent, half sorrowful smile.  


“My old man isn’t the most understanding person.”  


Dean’s voice roused Cas from a half dreamlike state and he looked down at the head nestled comfortably on his shoulder.  


“I don’t… remember much before mom died. I know they fought a lot, but there were good times, too. I know even back then I was a disappointment to him. Sometimes…” Cas felt, rather than heard Dean’s gulp. “I think that if I hadn’t been born they wouldn’t have gotten married. They wouldn’t have stayed together. They would have been happier. Mom would have still been alive… and I know… I know every time he looks at me he blames me for her dying.” Dean faltered a little, but instead of saying anything to break the confession, Cas just worked an arm around the broad shoulders. “Like I said… I don’t remember much about anything before… I just now it was my fault. That night the fire started. Dad gave Sam to me, telling me to run. I didn’t know what to do. Sam was screaming so loudly in my ear. That was the first time Dad gave me a smack.  
We got out just in time. Floors were beginning to collapse, the heat was so strong, burning my lungs and surrounding everything I’d grown up with. I just held onto Sammy, unable to do anything as the fire took away my home. I don’t know how they got out, but suddenly they were there, mom and dad. Dad took Sam from me and then… then I remembered my stupid dog.”  


Cas’ heart nearly broke when he heard the crack in Dean’s voice. He began to stroke a comforting circle pattern against the sorrowful man’s shoulder, waiting for the pain to recede enough for the story to continue.  


“I had a puppy, some stupid mutt dad had brought home, and I couldn’t see her anywhere. I knew, I just knew that she was still in the house, probably trying to get out, looking for me. She was family, you know? I don’t really remember my parents shouting after me, all I know was I ran back into that house as fast as I could. I was such a stupid kid. I should have just let the dumb dog burn. It wasn’t half as important as… anyway, mom ran after me. She grabbed me around the waist, kissing me and hauling me toward the door. Burning planks were falling from the ceiling. She just managed to push me out of the house before the ceiling collapsed on her.”  


A deathly hush came over the room as Cas stared down at the man huddled by his side. He licked his lips, unsure where to start. How could something so horrifying have happened to someone like Dean? It wasn’t fair. The pain was disproportionate to anything the younger man could have ever done. He swallowed hard, trying to relieve the lump in his throat. “That’s not…” he began, trying to find the right words. “Dean, surely your father knows, surely you know it wasn’t your fault. You reacted as any child might.”  


Dean shook his head, pulling out of Cas’ hold, his eyes dry and his expression stormy. “Dad changed after that. He was convinced someone did it. Even after the firemen told him it was because of the old wiring.”  


The finality of Dean’s tone made Cas think the conversation had come to a close. The look in the green eyes made him want to reach forward and hold Dean close, but he resisted. He sat there, his gaze leaving Dean’s face to stare at his socked feet. Moments later Dean was speaking again, however, and Cas’ ears perked.  


“I had to take care of Sammy. Dad didn’t seem to give a shit anymore. He drove us around the country, hell bent on finding whoever started the damn fire. We’d sit and stew in sleazy hotel rooms, sometimes for days while he disappeared without a word. He’d give me a gun and a talking to, telling me to make sure no one came in. I can still hear his speech. ‘Son, I’ve got a job and I won’t be back for a few days. The shot gun is under my bed. You protect your little brother with your life, you hear me? Don’t let me down, Dean. We don’t need another death in the family.” Dean laughed bitterly, picking at the denim of his jeans. “As if I wouldn’t have done it anyway. I just wish, for once, he’d be proud of me.”  


They sat together, Dean hunched up, and Cas staring through the dark at his hands. He wanted nothing more than to hold Dean Winchester in his arms until the hurt melted from behind his words. “He should be proud of you.” Cas whispered hoarsely, his voice deep and gruff with emotion. “I am. You don’t… I don’t know about your past, but I know who you are now, and that person… that person is… you are a good man, Dean. You are someone I feel proud to call my friend.”  


Dean’s disbelieving snort made Cas’ eyes narrow, and he grabbed the man’s face, pulling him close. “I’m not trying to coddle you, Dean Winchester. The truth is I think you’re the best man I have ever met. Yes, I am aware that I have only known you for a few months, but in that time I have grown to…” he trailed off, the heated passion behind his words dying down a little as he stared into the sea glass eyes blinking at him.  


“You are a really odd guy, Cas. Sometimes I think I got you figured out, then you do something like this. You… hell, if you aren’t the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And Amelia, well, she’s got something special with you. I gotta say… I’m jealous.”

Oh… Oh….  


_Oh._  


Cas’ breath hitched and he licked his lips one more time, his thumbs stroking the hollows of Dean’s cheeks. “I thought you weren’t…” he began.  


“I am.”  


“I thought you didn’t…”  


“I do.”  


A warm, gentle hand came to rest on Cas’ lower back, and without even registering his own movements, he leaned forward until they almost touched, noses gently brushing against one another with every breath they took, their eyes locked.  


“Dean,” Cas whispered, hardly daring to say a word, aching to lean closer. “Dean, I…”  


Dean’s throat bobbed and he smiled a little. “Yeah… yeah, same here.”  


“I can’t do this.” Cas rasped, dropping his hands from Dean’s face. “Dean… I can’t. I’m… I’m…”  


“Cas, hey, Cas, it’s okay, it’s –“ But before Dean could even think of what to say next, Cas had hauled himself from the bed and threw himself at the door, pounding down the stairs as fast as he could. He was… the worst man in the world. Allowing himself to succumb to such temptations. Allowing himself to take advantage of a poor, vulnerable man. It was unthinkable.  


Unforgivable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undisclosed Desires by Muse, is one of the most fitting songs for Destiel. And for this chapter. I have finally caught up with the chapters written in my brown binder. I only have two more pages in there, and then I begin writing chapters on the fly. Things are reaching a crescendo now, the air is primed for a storm. I sincerely hope that you all enjoyed this chapter and that you stay tuned for the next.


	20. I Found a Reason

Dean sat up, his mouth dry. He wanted to follow, wanted to beg and plead, but instead he stayed in his room, the clock etching every passing second into his mind until he could no longer stand the judging tone of it. Surging forward, he ripped it from the wall, and with a mighty heave, the object was hurled against the floor where it smashed into several pieces.  


“Fuck. This.” He growled, pacing the full length of the room several times before giving up and going in search of something new to smash.  


He threw himself into the work, trying his best to put Cas out of his over active imagination. Angry and frustrated, Dean punctuated the fury of his work with angry words, his face bright red. How could he have been so foolish? Surely this had been an obvious outcome. It was why he’d told Cas he didn’t find him attractive last Sunday. Was it really only a few days ago? It seemed centuries ago.  


Dean began to chip paint from the door frame outside the guest bedroom, focusing on the task with an impressive amount of attention and willpower. This was all his fault. It’s what he deserved for breaking down like a little bitch. Especially in front of Cas. He was supposed to be a strong man, a good soldier, a protector. He wasn’t supposed to need comfort. Fuck! Two tears leaked down the freckled cheeks, and Dean swiped at them, determined not to succumb to the surge of self-deprecation.  


The good thing about rage working was that the adrenalin gave Dean a lengthy high. He tore into the hall, sanding the floor and trip, jaw set wilfully. He was a hard worker, despite everything, so he was grateful for the distraction the house provided. Years ago he would have gone to the nearest dive bar and drank enough to make him green before stumbling in the streets where he would then pass out in a puddle of his own sick. A thoroughly unappetising thought, all things considered.  


Horrible, insidious thoughts filled the younger man’s head as he worked. Not only had he lost Cas’ friendship, but he’d basically tried forcing himself on Cas, despite knowing he wasn’t worth the space he took up. He wasn’t good enough for Cas, and now he would be alone. In a huge house living next to a man who despised him. Such thoughts were not new to Dean Winchester, but they never ceased to bring him to the lowest points in his life. He could not stop them, and they kept whirling around in his brain until he was fairly sick with them.  


The sun had all but sunk beyond the horizon, marking each miserable hour as the colour drained from the sky. When it finally disappeared he collapsed onto his bed, hating himself with every second that passed.  


He didn’t know how long he was lying there before he finally fell into a fitful slumber. Dark images passed through his mind, causing him to turn from side to side, sweat beading on his forehead. It was probably for that reason that he did not register another body slowly, almost hesitantly easing in beside him until a deep, rasping voice called his name softly.  


Dean turned around, jolting up in his bed, plastering his back against his wall, breast heaving. “Cas! What the fuck are you doing here?!”  


The sorrowful blue eyes stared up at him as Cas crouched beside him, the most pitiful expression Dean had ever seen on his face. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he heard the man murmur before the tortured gaze dropped. “I’ve been thinking all day… I couldn’t get…. This out of my head!” He made a wild gesture at the surrounding area. “Dean, what am I going to do? What are WE going to do?!”  


“Hey! Hey, hey, hey!” Dean scrubbed at his face, groaning a little. “Hey, okay, calm the fuck down, okay? Let’s just figure this out.” He let out a long yawn and gestured for Cas to follow him as he got off the bed. When the man didn’t immediately follow, he reached down and grasped the man’s hand, tugging him up. “Come on. I need some coffee and you need to relax. We are going to work things out, yeah? Okay?”  


Cas’ lips turned down and Dean could see his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Dean.” He whispered, his shoulders sinking. “I shouldn’t have come back here. I’m so sorry for putting you in this –“  


But Dean wasn’t really interested in self flagellating apologies. He yanked Cas up, effectively breaking him off as the man hit his chest with a solid thud. “Now listen.” Dean growled, gripping Cas’ wrist tightly in his hand. “I’m not… I’m not just going to let this, whatever it is, fizzle. And GOD, I hate that I just said fucking ‘fizzle’ in a fucking sentence.” A small smile tugged at his bowed lips and he bumped his knee against Cas’ thigh. “I’m not happy, Cas. I haven’t been happy in a long, long time, but I know that YOU make me happy, and I’d like to explore that. I’d like to see what happens, even if we do nothing more than stay friends.”  


Dean felt his entire body clench when Cas’ dumb, big, deep ocean eyes gaze up at him through the halo of coal lashes. “Jesus, Cas, please don’t look at me like that. Come on, can we just get some coffee and talk about this?”  


Cas nodded and they both made their way downstairs, their fingers slotting together, sending calming vibes up through Dean’s forearms. He only released Cas’ hand when it was time to put the pot on. “Now,” he said, turning around to watch the intruder. “Now, come on. Sit down and just… breathe, okay?”  


Cas, still muted, nodded helplessly and sat down, worrying the hem of his over large shirt. He looked so pitiful, so helpless, that all the ire previously bubbling inside Dean quickly dissipated, leaving a quiet chasm-like void. “Look,” He began again, dragging a hand through his unkempt locks. “I understand this is a really weird situation, and I know that you’re married and everything, but… I really, really…” He trailed off, unsure how to complete the sentence. He really what? All this dicking around and Dean didn’t know what he truly wanted from Cas. “I understand if you just want to stay friends. I’d never want to break up your family.” He finally finished, dropping his gaze to the floor.  


“I… would like to remain friends.” Cas finally spoke up, his gentle words slicing through Dean’s soul. “I know that I have… these urges, these… desires, but I can’t act on them. I just couldn’t do it. It’s wrong on so many different levels.”  


Dean swallowed hard and nodded, twisting about, unable to speak for a few seconds. “I totally get that.” He answered, despite wanting to scream at Cas, to fall on his knees and beg him, to show him exactly what he was missing by turning down Dean Fucking Winchester. “The bottom line is, Cas, is… I really like you as a person, and I’m happy to just be your friend, no matter what happens. I know you got your own life.”  


“Thank you, Dean.”  


“Don’t thank me, man.” Dean turned back around, holding two mugs filled with coffee. “So… what’s the deal, then? Are you gay or bi or… what? Does Amelia know?” He settled down opposite Cas and handed him a cup.  


Cas flushed and shrugged, staring into the near pitch depths. “Honestly… I’m not sure. I never really knew much about myself as a person, I never… I was… well, I had faint attractions to men, but I buried them so deep within myself that I don’t think…” He shook his head and took a swallow of the scalding liquid. “Amelia… is a wonderful woman, and she has always been my best friend. I think I felt like if I was ever to have a chance at real love, it would be with her, but…”  


“It just wasn’t right?” Dean supplied, playing with the rim of his own mug. “But you thought that if you pretended long enough it would come true.”  


Cas nodded miserably. “I do love her, but not… not in that way.”  


Dean sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, what can you do? Sometimes people just cross one another at wrong points in their lives, no matter how well they fit together. You never know in the end.” Except that Dean got the sinking feeling he DID know. He knew Cas was it for him. Just watching the beautiful man, the way he moved, the way he talked, smiled, touched his hair, adjusted his tie… Dean was almost positive he could never find anyone better than this, no matter how far he looked. Cas was the person he was meant to spend the rest of his days loving and growing old with. Only he wasn’t that person for Cas. The knowledge left a sick feeling in the pit of Dean’s stomach and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and drink himself into a calming stupor. He was so tired, so weary. This was supposed to be the calm point in his life, the lazy, predictable time, and it ended up being the most stressful, heart breaking spell.  


“Do you have everything ready for Sam’s arrival?” Cas asked, much to Dean’s relief.  


“Oh, yeah. I just gotta get a new bed and a rug or something to put in the guestroom. Actually, I was gonna ask you about that. I was wondering if I could borrow your truck to pick out a mattress and shit.” Dean began to push the mug from hand to hand, carefully manoeuvring it so that none of the coffee spilled over the sides.  


“Of course. We can go whenever you’re free.”  


Dean lifted his gaze to meet Cas’, and he smiled, tentatively reaching forward to squeeze one of the man’s hands lightly. “Thanks. Maybe tomorrow?”  


They finished their coffee without discussing much of anything, simply satisfied to know that the horrible day had been put behind them. It was around five in the morning before Cas finally went home. Dean fell asleep on the sofa for two hours before he was up and out of the house.  


That whole day passed with such a haze that Dean didn’t even remember much of it. When he got back he didn’t feel like going to pick out a bed, instead he went straight to his room and fell asleep, his eyes bloodshot and dry. He slept the whole afternoon away, only waking up twice, once to pee, and the second time to answer a phone call. It was his father again. By the end of the ten minute call he felt so drained and broken, that he didn’t know what to do. His whole body demanded the company of another, but instead of looking through the countless bars and pubs his feet took him out the door and down a familiar path.  


The night air dragged across his body, sending shivers down his spine as he crossed his yard, then Cas’. He knew the back door would be unlocked, so he entered the house and went straight to the man’s study, where he knew he’d find Cas.  


At the sound of his light knock on the door, Cas answered it with a shocked look on his face. “Dean? Is everything okay??”  


Cas’ face was such a welcome sight, such a comfort to the distraught man that he didn’t even both answering the startled questions, but instead bowed over and pulled Cas into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered desolately, his face buried in the stiff man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean… I know we’re just friends, and I know that nothing’s going to happen, but I’ve had a really… shitty day, and I was wondering if I could just…. Sit with you.”  


Much to Dean’s relief and amazement, instead of refusing the request, Cas’ arms encircled him, gently stroking his shoulder blades. “Come on, Dean. I think it’s time to go to bed.”  


Dean could have started crying then and there, but instead he made a slightly broken noise and simply followed as Cas lead him upstairs into strange territory.  


The bedroom was dark and blissfully quiet. Cas brought him over to a plush king sized mattress, pushing him down on the bed. Before he could protest, the man was kneeling beside him and unlacing his boots with such sweet care that it made Dean feel like running. When he was finished with the task, Cas came up beside him and pulled him down, settling in without saying a single word. They lay there, beneath the light blankets, Dean curled in a set of strong, comforting arms, his lids slowly dragging closed, and they fell asleep together, peaceful and loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song is I Found a Reason by The Velvet Underground, but, if you're feeling adventurous, you could also listen to the cover Cat Powers did. It's a more haunting version than the original. Both are beautiful.
> 
> Are the boys being too OOC?? Part of me wanted to have them snogging during the middle of this chapter, but after reading all the wonderful, beautiful comments I decided to put it on hold just a bit longer. I adore each and every one of you, and all your comments make me positively ecstatic! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'd say we are getting closer to the end, but even I don't know how many chapters I have left. The story has sort of taken a life of its own, and I'm just along for the ride. I do have a basic outline, and you will have to be patient for a little longer. THE TIME WILL COME, MY LOVELIES, I PROMISE. They WILL shag. They WILL! Just... not quite yet.


	21. The First Day of My Life

For the first time in his life, Cas woke warm and happy and completely comfortable. Dean’s head was still cradled on his chest, a long leg slung over his shins. It occurred to the dark haired man that this could possibly be the best way of waking up ever to created, and that this would be the last time in his life he would ever get to experience this kind of peace. Despite the fact that Dean’s leg was dangerously close to Cas’ crotch was beside the point. So what if all it took was a slight shift up for the top of Dean’s knee to brush against the half hard cock beneath Cas’ sweat pants. It was all worth it.  


Dean softly snored out a small moan, his fingers flexing against Cas’ shirt, and Cas sighed happily, basking in the serene moment. The solid weight on top of him felt so good and so right, the poor man never wanted it to end. That, of course, seemed to jinx his situation, for not seconds after he’d thought it, Dean’s phone began to chime. The freckled face scrunched in irritation, his lashes fluttering a little as a sliver of green appeared beneath, tired and unwilling to fully realise the entirety of what had just happened.  


“What time is it?” Dean mumbled reluctantly against Cas’ shirt, lips grazing the fabric and sending shivers down Cas’ spine. There was a moment there when the older man’s heart nearly stopped, for Dean’s leg slid slightly forward and upwards, allowing Cas to feel something rub up against his thigh ever so gently. His eyes rolled up and he prayed silently, begging God to not let Dean move anymore. It was just too much. Too…. Too much.  


“I’m honestly not sure.” Cas rumbled in reply, his own voice thick with disuse.  


Dean groaned and hauled himself up, making a face as he ran a tongue over his teeth.  


“I have an extra toothbrush if you need one.” Cas laughed, pushing up and rubbing at his sleep crusted eyes. “It’s in the bathroom.”  


“Awesome! You rock!” Dean rolled off the bed, somehow managing to land on his feet after the extremely ungraceful manoeuvre. “Uhhh…. Where, uh, where is the bathroom?” He crouched over a little, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers and pushing out.  


The older man lifted an eyebrow in amusement, his gaze slowly drifting south as he pointed the way to the room in question. Dean’s entire face turned pink and he shuffled quickly out of the room, disappearing in the direction Cas had shown him. His lips quirked a little as he tried not to think about what he’d just seen.  


The previous night had been unexpected. Nice, but unexpected Cas had been planning on distancing himself from Dean the few weeks Amelia was gone, but the way he’d looked… no one could have left him alone. Not even the hardest heart.  


Dean reappeared moments later, clearing his throat, the slight tenting in his trousers mostly gone. “Hey,” he cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “So, uh, last night. That, uh, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t… I know that’s not really what…” he cleared his throat again, trying to square his shoulders and strike a more nonchalant pose, his voice growing deeper. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about that. I don’t usually… do that.”  


The sheepish look glinting through the freckled face behind all the masculine façade really made Cas melt. “Who would I even tell?” He asked innocently, getting up from the bed and meandering over to his closet, licking his lips.  


“Uh, I don’t know, but I don’t… normally do that, okay?”  


Cas grinned wickedly, mirth dancing in his baby blues as he began to rummage about for clothes. “Don’t usually do what? Break into my house and demand I sleep with you?” He knew it was wrong. He KNEW he was just badgering Dean, but the defensive tone in the man’s voice just made him want to poke.  


Behind him he heard Dean splutter; the sound was music to his ears.  


“Of course. The shorter man continued, a little more serious as he turned around to face the pink face Dean Winchester. “I didn’t mind. The truth is, I slept better last night than I have in years. I think sometimes we get hung up on what men are and aren’t supposed to do in order to be perceived as manly. Personally, being able to hold someone at night, knowing there is a person next to me, someone who needs me, it feels good.”  


Dean stared at him wide eyed, then glanced toward the door, swallowing hard. “Look, I gotta go to work, but… are you busy later? I’d like to take you to dinner or drinks or something.”  


Without hesitation, Cas nodded. “Dinner would be nice.” He honestly didn’t know why he’d said yes. The whole thing sounded far too much like a date, but his mouth had opened before his rain even had time to react, and honestly, the excited expression on Dean’s handsome face was enough to make his knees turn to pudding.  


Dean left a minute later in a manner that made Cas’ heart stutter deep within his chest cavity. It wasn’t fair that he had such a gorgeous smile. Sometimes Cas wished he was a better wordsmith, but somehow he figured even the Poet Laureate would have difficulty expressing the perfection of a pure hearted smile from Dean Winchester.  


***  


Dean kept quiet at work, even though Benny kept giving him suspicious looks across the building. He insisted that it was just a good day – that anyone could have a good day from time to time. To which Benny replied that the only time he ever had good days was when he’d just gotten laid or what about to. Dean just blew him off, giving him vague deflections. If Benny knew what Dean had planned (or not planned) for that night he would probably hit him across the head. The implications were great, and Dean knew that he was doing the wrong thing, but he didn’t CARE. Doing good things had never gotten him anywhere. They’d left him broken and alone in a huge, rundown house with nothing to look forward to and no one to fall asleep next to at night. Frankly, the relief and the joy of sleeping next to and waking up with Cas had been such a tidal wave of comfort that Dean didn’t know how he’d be able to live without having it again.  


For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester was going to look out for himself. He no longer had anyone to take care of. He no longer had anyone to mother and watch, so he was going to actually get what HE wanted. No more waiting and putting others first. Sam had his life in order, was getting married. Benny had been clean for three years now, and he’d built a business for himself. Charlie was working for a massive tech company and, though she had no girlfriends in her life, Dean knew she would find someone. There were no more excuses.  


He drifted through the day, feeling as though the world was full of sunshine and puppies. He even hummed while he worked, checking the clock every five minutes, hoping thirty had passed. He even tried texting Cas halfway through the day, only to realise he didn’t have the man’s number. This irked him to no end, because there was nothing more he wanted than to communicate with gorgeous Mr Blue Eyes.  


Instead Dean texted Charlie, chewing on his tongue as he typed out the message.

**Hey, Bradbury, if u were going to take someone on a date, what would u do? – DW**   


He fidgeted about for about 3.2 seconds before his phone gently vibrated in his hand, signalling her reply.  


**OMG. DEAN, U GOT A DATE?! NFW!!! THAT’S AWESOME. OMG. IS IT WITH SEXY BLUE EYES???????? – CB**   


**No. I’m just asking. – DW**   


Dean cracked a grin, leaning against a candy apple red 94 Pontiac Firebird, cradling the phone in his large, scarred hands.  


**U need to take him to some place u’ll be comfortable at. Nothing too fancy, OK? But not a dive bar. And, for the love of Zeus, don’t wear ur usual shitty jeans and old tshirts. – CB**   


**Hey! I don’t always wear jeans and tshirts. – DW**   


Dean looked down at his clothes and grimaced, stuffing the phone in the back pocket of his faded jeans. So he HAPPENED to be wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He DID own a suit.  


When Dean got home he went straight to Cas’ house, knocking at the door with three soft raps. It was opened just as he was about to knock a fourth time, and Cas stood in front of him, his face pink and his hair sticking out in every manner possible, water dripping from the ends. Dean swallowed hard. “Uh, hey. I hope I didn’t… disturb you…”  


“Not at all. I was just showering.”  


“Oh, well, good. I was just, well, I was just realising that I didn’t have your number. I thought that might be a good thing to have. You know. In case something comes up.” Dean didn’t bother to hide his blatant admiration of Cas’ damp body. Of the way his chest gently expanded with every inhale, or the way his mouth moved while he talked. Or the slight twitch of his fingers. The sexual energy a freshly washed, dripping wet James Castiel Novak dripped was nearly tangible. It was as though Dean could slice a knife right through it. He sucked the corner of his lower lip between his teeth and dragged his eyes up and down the man’s body one more time before meeting his eyes.  


Cas tugged on his shirt, a damp patch on the front of his shirt slowly beginning to expand as the fabric clung to his body. “Oh, yes, of course. I’ll give it to you.”  


Dean pulled out his phone and plugged in the numbers, repeating them after Cas said them, his brows furrowed in concentration. When the transaction was done he nodded and bid his farewells, getting halfway across the yard before realising he hadn’t set up a good time for dinner. He raced back across the turf and knocked on Cas’ door, harder this time, panting slightly. A fact which just made his insides shrivel up. Damn, he was getting old. Maybe there was something to Sam and Cas’ favourite exercising past time. But the more Dean contemplated jogging the more his lip curled in distaste.  


The door was answered seconds later, Cas’ head poking out owlishly. “Yes?”  


“Dinner. I forgot to ask you what time you wanted to have dinner. You know. Tonight.”  


“Oh. Whatever time works for you.”  


“How about…. Give me thirty minutes and we’ll go. Nothing fancy.”  


“Alright. Thirty minutes, nothing fancy.” Cas pushed back the hair from his forehead and laughed a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is The First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes.  
> I'm sorry for the wait on this chapter. I've been working for 11 days straight, several 10 to 12 hour days sprinkled in there, and I just finally got some time to myself. Thank you beautiful, wonderful people for all the encouragement. I'm finishing this story, never fear. I love it, and I love all of you. Thank you.  
> Next chapter is THE FIRST DATE! You know what they say, third time's the charm. ;)


	22. I Want You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say, thank you all for your wonderful comments and encouragements, and I'm so very sorry that I didn't get this out sooner. There were some complications going on, a lot of work, some family issues, and so I wasn't able to finish the chapter as soon as I would have liked. Things, however, have calmed down a little, and I will resume my weekly updating!  
> As a thank you for being so wonderfully kind and patient, there's a little present at the end of the chapter.

Dean didn’t get jitters before dates. Partially because he never really had “dates”, just booty calls. He certainly wasn’t nervous before the dinner with Cas. He didn’t scrub his entire body, making sure not a speck of dirt remained on his lean figure. Dean didn’t change his outfit three times before deciding on a simple black suit without the tie. And he certainly didn’t spent fifteen minutes on his hair, making sure that it looked good, but not too good.  


When the freckled man knocked on Cas’ door he was shifting about, nervous energy coursing through his veins, pumping from his ventral aorta as though it were blood washing through him.  


“Wow.” It came out involuntarily, forcing itself out with Dean’s breath as Cas opened the door. The blue eyes rolled as though some joke had gone flat, but the younger man was dead serious. Dean had seen Cas in a suit before, when he’d first moved into the house, but since then it had been mainly jeans and sweat pants. He licked his lips, dragging his gaze up and down the fine figure before him.  


Cas tugged on the tie, clearing his throat. “You don’t need to compliment me, Dean. I know I can’t… get this tie…” he looked down at the offending article and tried to fix it.  


Dean laughed, pushing the man’s hands out of the way. “Here, here, let me see it.” His cheeks dimpled slightly as his lips pulled into a wide smile. “Oh man, dude, you’ve got it all backwards. Don’t you know how to tie a tie?”  


“Michael tried teaching me, but it never really took.” Cas grumbled, squaring his shoulders.  


“You can try it on me. Not that I mind tying your ties for you.” Dean raised his gaze to Cas’ as he finished the Windsor knot. “It’s… kinda sexy.” Seeing Cas blush was probably on Dean’s top ten favourite things. He patted the tie when he was finished and took a step back. “Come on, we’re gonna go get some grub, okay?”  


They went to a local eatery, a quiet little spot in the downtown area. It was a nice place with soft baby blue walls hung with paintings and sketches. Their host brought them to a small, semi-secluded area towards the back of the restaurant, right beneath a faintly Van Gogh inspired landscape painting.  


Dean sat opposite his friend, unable to keep from smiling, his whole body light and full of hot air. He shifted about, trying to keep his feet from pressing forward and invading Cas’ space. It was a difficult task.  


“So,” Cas started, nursing his lemonade – Dean noted with some amusement that he’d chosen to stay away from the alcohol menu.  


“So, what?” The cheesy grin that split Dean’s face was infectious, and soon it spilled over to the older man.  


“How was work?” Their feet met beneath the table, sending fierce blushes up the backs of their necks.  


“Honestly? It wasn’t bad. I had to fix up a Mini Cooper, some idiot got into a fender bender, so I had to spend all day on the phone ordering parts and getting things figured out. I’m charging extra just for the hassle. I guess it probably wouldn’t have been so annoying, but, you know, I wanted to be home. I felt like texting you about twenty times, but I didn’t have your number.” Dean sipped at his pint, his fingers itching to reach forward and grasp the ones just inches from his own.  


“I, ah, I understand. I didn’t have your number and I wanted to know when we were going, or what to wear. I don’t often text, but that is most likely because I’ve never really seen the point. But now that we’ve exchanged information, you don’t… you can text me whenever you like.” Their eyes met and Dean felt a shiver run down his spine.  


Through all his joy he could only wonder when the other shoe would drop. He could feel it hanging up there, teetering on the edge of collapse. There was so much on the line here, especially for Cas. Any minute the man would realise Dean just wasn’t worth it and he’d throw it away to go back to his family. The thought spurred him forward. Not wanting to waste any of the precious time he had, Dean reached out to grasp Cas’ hand, just as their waiter brought the entrees. Dean cleared his throat and quickly retracted his hand, turning his gaze to the steak in front of him.  


“Wow, uh, it looks great.” He told the waiter, staring without really seeing.  


“Is there anything else I can get you?” He heard the man ask, but Cas took over from there, assuring the man that their service had been excellent.  


Dean’s ears burned and he picked up his knife, ready to just begin eating, but before he could, he felt Cas’ foot gently nudge his ankle. His gaze lifted and he found the older man staring intently at him, a foreign look in his baby blues. Dean cleared his throat again and smiled tremulously. “It really does look good.” He murmured.  


“Yes, it does.”  


He didn’t try anything through the rest of the meal, but Cas’ foot stayed next to his, and it calmed him.  


They talked about little things, about the house, about Sam’s upcoming visit. Cas had some interesting ideas about what to hang on the walls, and they made a date to go shopping for shower curtains and towels. Dean didn’t wasn’t really interested in interior decorating. He hadn’t had his own room really… ever. There was that one apartment he’d leased for six months, but he was never there. It was sad and lonely and Lisa had been around.  


The meal was pleasant and when the man came back to ask about desserts, he found the two of them quietly watching one another, no words echoing from their lips.  


Dean looked up and then looked at Cas, the question hanging between them  


Dessert?  


“Uh, no, thank you. We’ll just take the cheque.” Before Dean could react, Cas gave the man his card and then turned back to the young man, smirking at the indignant look on his face.  


“I was going to pay for it! I was the one who suggested this damn thing in the first place!” Dean spluttered, his mouth hanging open as though undecided about whether or not to make any further objections. Cas decided for him, however, by leaning forward and pressing his lips to the corner Dean’s mouth.  


“Oh,” Dean stuttered, blinking rapidly. “Uh…. Let’s….”  


“Yes, let’s.”  


When their waiter came back they were ready to get the hell out of there. Cas didn’t even allow him to get a word in edgewise, he simply took the black booklet, wrote an obscene amount in the tip area and got up. Dean quickly followed, his hand reaching out to hold Cas’, and they exited the building at a quick walk, not noticing the stares and whispers that followed them.  


“Cas,” Dean gasped, hurrying to match the runner’s pace. He found himself pushed against the side of his beloved Impala, breath knocked out of him as Cas pinned his hands to his baby.  


“I can’t…” Cas kissed his cheek, then his chin. “You’re too much. I can’t help it.”  


A hoarse laugh escaped Dean’s lips and he leaned in, kissing as much as he could reach, which wasn’t a whole lot. Cas was controlling every movement he made, coaxing the younger man out of his comfort zone. “Come on, let’s… let’s get in the car.” He begged, moaning just a little as he felt dry lips on his jaw. “Come on, car. Now.”  


Cas seemed to agree, for moments later the door was opened and Dean found himself pushed into the passenger’s seat. He didn’t even argue, his blood rushing in his ears, his heart throbbing against his chest. “Cas, Cas, Cas,” Dean whispered, reaching out when the other man slid in next to him. “Cas, fuck, let me…” His gaze dropped and he saw the erection straining against black fabric, and he knew then… fuck, he knew what he had to do.  


Without waiting for an answer, Dean leaned forward and unzipped the man’s fly, licking his lips hungrily. He heard Cas suck in a breath, and he laughed just a little. “Have you ever had a blow job?” He asked softly, kissing the bulge, his teeth grazing against the soft grey cotton.  


“No.” Cas’ voice was slightly strangled, a hand reached over to rest against the back of Dean’s neck, the callused palms stroking against sensitive skin. “Amelia never… I never asked and she… we only… just that one time.”  


Ohhhhh… Dean smiled and eased Cas’ cock from the slit in his briefs. “You’ve only had sex once?” He asked, sucking in a shuddering breath.  


The admission was small and embarrassed, and it made Dean’s chest tighten. Fuck! Cas was so damn CUTE! And his dick… well, that wasn’t anything to scoff at. The younger man took a moment to just stare at the shaft in his hand. It was thick and long, curving slightly to the right, veins running up towards an almost purple hued head. “That’s… brilliant.” He breathed, flicking his tongue out to taste the salty skin. “Me… fuck, I’ve done it more times than I can count. I’m a fucking tramp, Cas.”  


“Don’t say that.” Cas gasped roughly, his grip on the back of Dean’s neck tightening momentarily. “Don’t say that, Dean. You’re… perfect in your imperfections. I would never judge you for something like that.”  


Dean’s stomach lurched at the compliment, his own dick aching to be touched. He didn’t reply, too flustered to say anything. Cas’ whispered compliment still ringing in his ears. Instead he dragged his tongue along the sensitive underside of the cock, teasing Cas, rolling the man’s balls between his fingers as he worked his way around and up. Every moan was fuel, coal heaped on the fire that urged Dean forward. His nostrils filled with the clean, musky scent of Cas, his mouth with the taste, his ears with the sound. A medley of senses muddled together as Dean opened just wide enough to suck the leaking head in, one hand stroking around the base, his wrist flicking in time with the movement.  


Cas’ hips bucked once, forcing the thick shaft unexpectedly deeper inside Dean’s mouth, making him choke just a little. Immediately Cas tried to pull out, apologies filling the air, eclipsing the obscene sound of Dean’s mouth. Dean shook his head, lifting his head up to stare at Cas, his nostrils flaring, eyes dark with desire, chest heaving. “Fuck my mouth, Cas.” He grated, taking one of the man’s hands and resting it on his head. “Do that again.” And with that the freckled face lowered again, swallowing Cas as far as he could, urging the man on.  


The movement was hesitant at first, but Dean made his predilections known, moaning around the cock whenever it bucked up, his hands growing eager. Cas clearly took the encouragement and ran with it, for moments later the dam broke and Dean felt the full force of his friend’s fury. The hand on his head curled, yanking a fistful of his hair as the hips turned into a blur of motion. Tears filled 

Dean’s eyes at the dual sensation of the cruel tugs and the invading force close to fucking his throat. Oh, fuck, this was too good. Dean felt as though he was dying, pleasure exploding behind his skin, pulsating through his blood, tingling against his fingertips.  


Suddenly, through the haze of hedonistic pleasure, he heard it. The flood of praise lilting through the air. He sobbed around the cock, his own hips rocking against the seat as Cas whispered love.  


“…so good, Dean, so good. You feel amazing. Oh, Dean, you’re doing so well. Gh… hnn… I’m close, Dean, I’m close…”  


Dean pushed himself further, doing his best to swallow the entire length whole. He WANTED Cas, he wanted to hear more, he wanted to make the man proud, to fill him with the best sensations he’d ever felt. He WANTED it.  


“Dean, Dean,” Suddenly the hand on his head loosened and he felt them at his shoulders, trying to push him up. “Dean, I’m going to… Dean, I’m almost there, you’ve got to stop.”  


That incensed Dean, and he pushed the hands away, relaxing his throat and going down until his nose touched the fabric surrounding Cas’ groin. He felt the head slip down, closing around his windpipe, just as he heard the strangled groan, felt the stutter as Cas stopped fighting and gave up the ghost.  


He didn’t have the option of swallowing, Cas came directly down his throat, sending Dean into a gagging, gasping fit. He felt the prick softening in his mouth, felt it as Cas pulled out and dragged him into a hug, stroking his hair. Dean smiled up at him, licking at his lips, tasting what little ejaculate had escaped. “Cas… fuck,” his voice was hoarse and rasping, and he wound his arms around the man’s shoulders, kissing his cheeks, his chin, his nose, everywhere but his lips, not wanting to dirty the man’s mouth.  


“Dean, I… I should have stopped.” Cas moaned, lifting Dean’s face with a thumb under his chin and kissing him.  


Dean practically clambered onto his lap, licking and moaning into the cavernous mouth. He shook his head, smiling. “That was…. The best blowjob I’ve ever given… it felt amazing.” He promised, nosing Cas’ chin. “Did you… was is it good for you, too?”  


The disbelieving laugh that sounded made Dean give a responding chuckle.  


“That was… amazing, Dean. I never… I never really thought of them before, but…” Cas groaned and rubbed his face. “What else can you do?”  


Dean sighed and settled back into his seat, reaching over to tuck Cas back and zip his trousers up. “Well, maybe when we get home I’ll have to tell you about the time I tried on a pair of pink panties.”  


Cas made a strangled sound and stared out the window, his eyes wide.  


“Here, keys.” Dean tossed the keys onto Cas’ lap and lazily began to stroke his own erection through his trousers. “Drive, baby, drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is I Want You by Marian Hill.  
> And, ah, I was very nervous about writing the ending scene. Hopefully it lived up to expectations, but it has been some time since I've written anything in the least sexual by myself, so be kind!


	23. I Wish You Were a Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just warning you lot, this starts out with some pretty explicit stuff. I'm sure most of you are alright with it, but just in case, I'm letting you know.

Dean didn’t know what was going to happen when they stumbled into his house, but he was ready for it, whatever it entailed.  


As soon as the door shut behind them, Cas was on him, tugging him close, a hand balled up in the front of his shirt as their lips met. Teeth clashed as they battled for dominance, both learning the other’s pace. Their hands roamed frantically up and down, searching beneath fabric, pulling at the clothes as they desperately tried to get closer. Closer. Closer.  


Somewhere along the way, from the car ride to the house, a little thought had been nagging at Dean Winchester. There had been something he’d meant to do before he picked his friend up, but he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember until… “Cas,” Dean managed to get a breath in, pulling away from the older man, chest heaving. “I don’t… I don’t have any condoms.” He swallowed hard, kicking himself not buying some on his way from work that afternoon. How could he have been so STUPID?? How could he have forgotten something so simple and necessary???  


Cas groaned, running a hand through his hair, practically growling in frustration. Which, on one hand made the guilt sink even deeper in Dean’s gut, but on the other hand, it was pretty hot. His voice got all throaty and angry and Dean couldn’t help but shudder. “I…” He looked down at the stiff cock rubbing against his thigh, practically begging for release. The desire in his eyes made Dean’s toes curl.  


Dean wanted to just say screw it, but prudence won out. He hadn’t been tested in a while, and he didn’t want to risk anything. Especially not with Cas.  


“Let’s go to your room.” Cas whispered hoarsely, gnawing on a red lip.  


Dean nodded, darting in to kiss him once more before grasping his hand and pulling the shorter man along.  


When they got to Dean’s room, Cas pushed him down onto the bed and crawled after. “Show me.” He commanded, deep and throatily, a visceral quality to his movement, his blue eyes alight with vivid desire.  


Dean decided to play stupid, enjoying this new side of Cas too much for it to stop simply because he acquiesced. “Show you what?”  


“Show me how you jerk off.”  


Knowing it was coming and hearing the words spoken were two entirely different things. Dean swallowed hard and found himself fumbling with his trousers, despite his earlier convictions to tease and make Cas work for it. “You wanna see?” He asked, flinging the discarded clothing behind him. “You wanna see what I do when you leave me? What I do when I just can’t stop thinking about you?” He closed his eyes, grinning a little as Cas made an animalistic noise in the back of his throat.  


Slowly he dragged a hand down his body, sucking in breaths of air as his fingers passed over stiff, rosy nipples, gooseflesh covering his freckled chest. Ordinarily he wouldn’t bother touching anything other than his cock, but the gaze focused on him made Dean’s body hyper sensitive. He shuddered as digits plucked gently, at first, then harder, at the hard nubs. One glassy eye cracked open and he licked his lips, skin turning a faint shade of crimson,  


Cas was staring avidly, his hands hovering at his sides as though unsure whether or not to proceed. That notion alone made Dean’s prick throb, heat pooling in his gut. Just WATCHING got Cas turned on. Just watching Dean. That meant… fuck. He was doing a good job. He had to be in order to make Cas look THAT wrecked. Right? Right?  


“Cas,” he breathed, arching his back, his actions a touch over confident despite the slight nagging doubt that lingered in the depths of his body. It wasn’t the first time he’d put on a show for someone, but it was the first time it had meant this much. Dean was thoroughly fucked. He loved Cas so fucking much.  


His eyes closed again, skin tingling with every slight brush of finger tips. “Fuck, Cas… Cas. Caaassssss.” Almost immediately he felt the warm, large hands on his hips, hesitant but intent on their goal.  


Dean sat up and wrapped his arms about the man’s shoulders, whispering encouragement to him as he did so.  


Slowly, somehow, Dean found himself straddling Cas’ hips, the breath gushing easily from the body, almost faster than it returned. His cock was trapped between their stomachs, the engorged head leaking as it rubbed up against warm skin. It was too good. Dean felt as though he could cum just from the panting and kissing. He swallowed hard, feeling Cas do the same, and he grinned. This was too good. Too much fun. Pearly white teeth latched onto a soft lobe, and Dean growled, tugging a tad too hard.  


Cas yelped in surprise and jumped, his hands slapping against Dean’s chest, half pushing him away. Immediately after the gut reaction, he was apologising. “Shit! I’m sorry, Dean. Did I hurt you?” Cas stared down at him in horror, even as Dean lay there, pupils blown, chest heaving. He’d just been forcefully ejected from his friend’s lap, and he could HEAR the worry behind Cas’ voice, he knew WHY Cas was worried, but all he could think was…  


Damn. Cas was strong.  


Dean licked his lips and broke into a wicked smile, almost snarling as he surged forward and grabbed hold of Cas’ shoulders, throwing him down so that he could crawl on top of him. “Fuck.” He hissed, dragging blunt nails down the broad shoulders. “I’m not a fucking girl, Cas. You don’t have to treat me delicately.” Dean bent over Cas and sucked a patch of skin above the man’s left nipple, his teeth sinking in.  


There was probably a moment there where Dean wasn’t sure whether or not he’d gone too far. It was probably after he’d lifted his head, gripping he wrists almost cruelly, and saw the confusion and uncertainty on Cas’ face. He faltered, worried he had gone too far. Then.  


Then.

THEN.  


It was as though someone had tugged a string in the man’s brain, lighting the shadier, suppressed area of Cas’ brain. The one he hadn’t allowed even himself to fully realise. Dean saw it happen in slow motion, saw the recognition of kindred souls. Saw the realisation that came from knowing one’s boundaries could be tested.  


A hand shot out and grabbed Dean’s hair, yanking him off, throwing him down. Dean’s blood rushed to his ears as lips crashed against his own, sending him into a mindless oblivion.  


From then on caution flew to the breeze. Their passion was a hurricane, hell bent on wreaking havoc. One moment Dean was laughing as he pinned Cas down, lapping his neck and rocking his hips against the man’s arse, the next Cas had him by the throat and was stroking his throbbing dick.  


Dean, though he knew… he KNEW they could not proceed without condoms, grabbed a bottle of lotion from beside his bed, practically sobbing with pleasure as Cas sucked a dark purpling mark on his inner thigh. He pushed it into Cas’ hands, one leg tugging the man’s face closer, crying out as his cock rubbed against the silken hair atop Cas’ head.  


“I know,” he gasped, pulling at Cas, rocking against the bed. “I know we can’t… but… fuck… I want you INSIDE me. I need you Cas, I need you, even if it’s only… fingers.” He looked away guiltily, embarrassed at the admittance.  


He needn’t have worried, however, because Cas surged up, immediately pulling him close and smothering him with soft, loving kisses. Their bout of frenetic energy passed, replaced by a deep seated adoration. “Dean, oh, Dean… you’re so beautiful.” Cas breathed against his neck, uncapping the bottle.  


It was hard for Dean to take it, the compliments warring with everything he KNEW to be true about himself. But he allowed them, let them wash over him. “Just… fuck me, Cas. Please?”  


Cas nodded, stroking the back of his neck. “Tomorrow… tomorrow one of us is getting condoms.” He said firmly, kissing Dean’s jaw.  


Hell, it wasn’t as though he was going to find any complaint from his friend. Dean concurred whole heartedly. He WANTED Cas. Whether he was fucking or being fucked, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that it happened.  


“I’m not… entirely sure what I’m doing.” Cas admitted after a few moments, looking up at Dean uncertainly. “I mean… I know the mechanics, but I don’t… want to hurt you.”  


Dean groaned and kneed him in the stomach. “Just do it, Cas. Trust me. Just… fucking finger fuck me.”  


“Okay.” Cas mumbled, taking Dean’s thighs in his hands and spreading them as far as they could go. He paused to stare down at the man lying before him, causing the poor Dean Winchester much discomfort. Despite the emotions he saw there, Dean just wanted him to shut his eyes and concentrate on his arse. Not… stare at him. It was embarrassing. That kind of affection and tender desire was too much. He didn’t deserve it.  


Dean was about to snap at him to get on with it, when he felt the intrusion. It was just a finger at first, but fuck, at that point Dean didn’t even give a shit. Within minutes he was shouting for more, his hand running up and down his cock with fervour.  


Within ten minutes Dean had spent himself, his stomach covered in long strings of pearly liquid. Cas came again shortly after, panting and collapsing on top of the man below him.  


They lay there for several long, loud minutes, until Cas rolled over on his side and smiled over at Dean. “Well…” he groaned, struggling to get up. “I… think we ought to clean up.”  


Dean let out a half groan half laugh and weakly grasped the man’s forearm. “Nah. It’s fine. Let’s just use the fuckin’ sheets and nap. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” He grinned and flopped down on the bed, giving Cas a beckoning stare.  


Cas hesitated, but Dean won over. He rolled his eyes and dropped down beside the younger man, causing the mattress to bounce ever so slightly.  


Dean grabbed the nearest corner of the sheet and wiped both their chests off, stopping every so often to press a soft kiss against his friend’s chest, which made Cas giggle just a little.  


They fell asleep next to one another, hands resting together, fingers laced.  


***

  


Cas was the first to wake. It was a comfortable return to reality, however, and a lazy one. He floated around in his mind for a while before cracking his eyes open and staring down at the sleeping man beside him.  


There were parts of him that screamed out in horror. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t known exactly what he was doing, and honestly, he didn’t really regret it at all. But… Dean was covered in marks. Angry redish-purple marks, scratches, hand prints… teeth marks. Cas flushed and rubbed his face, panicking just a little. What if Dean got upset? Had he gone too hard? But no… no, that wasn’t… he looked down at his own bruised and beaten frame and felt a little better. Dean had given him the very same treatment, and it had been… oh, it had been passionate to say the least.  


Cas flushed and coughed, trying to hide the small smile of pride that was working its way onto his thoroughly kissed lips. He glanced back down at Dean, then decided he could use a little more sleep. After all, it was still dark out, and Dean didn’t look as though he was anywhere near waking.  


Gentle touches brushed down the sculpted arms, paying extra attention to the man-made marks, then tickling along the freckles. Dean’s nose wrinkled and he shivered, twisting about so that he was facing Cas.  


Cas wasn’t sure if he’d woken, but then he let out a loud snore and curled closer, burying his nose in the man’s skin with a sleepy sigh.  


It was probably the most adorable thing Cas had ever seen, and he held him tightly, swallowing hard. Life would have been so much easier if he hadn’t been gay. If he had never met this beautiful man. Now he had to deal with the fact that he had cheated on his wife with another man. And he didn’t want to stop. Dean was wonderful, perfect, absolutely – well, to be honest, Cas wasn’t sure if there was a strong enough word created to express just how wonderful Dean Winchester was. Sure, he was a flawed, angry individual, but though the parts that made the whole were slightly defective, they melded into the most perfect man in creation. Outwardly and inwardly, every piece that made Dean Winchester Dean was perfect.  


Cas shook his head, rolling his eyes heavenward. He’d turned into such a sap in the past 48 hours. He determined to stop mulling over just how wonderful Dean was and would actually try to sleep.  


He did end up sleeping, but was woken just a few short hours later by Dean’s alarm and the sounds of Dean’s groggily vehement expletives.  


“Shit. What fucking time is it? It’s too fucking early. Fuck.”  


Only when he felt Dean roll out of grasp did he crack a sleep ridden eye open. “What time is it?” He asked, watching with some interest as the very naked man stood up, his back to him.  


“It’s early. Just… get some rest. All I gotta do today is finish one car, then I’ll be back. It shouldn’t take me more than an hour.” Dean knelt down on the bed and pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead. “Just stay in bed, okay? I’ll be back before you know it with breakfast and coffee. Sound good?”  


Cas nodded, reaching out and pulling his young friend in for another kiss. “Don’t be too long.” He murmured, and then let Dean go.  


To be fair to Cas, he did stay in bed for the next hour, but after a little while he felt too disgusting to stand, and went to take a shower. He changed the bedding and puttered about Dean’s house, not really wanting to leave. It was an irrational fear, he knew, but there was this feeling that if he stepped foot beyond the outside door, the little box he’d created for himself and Dean would crumble and he’d be left kicking up dust in search of a fragmented remnant.  


It took Dean more than an hour, it took him more than two hours, and when he got home, Cas was sitting at the table with a laptop and a huge book, sipping at coffee. He heard the door slam and heavy footsteps hurrying inside.  


“Cas? Cas?” In moments Dean’s head popped through the doorway, his look of concern melting as soon as their eyes locked.  


“Took you long enough.” Cas murmured, pushing back from his seat and smiling up at his friend. “I had to make my own coffee.”  


“I’m sorry, man. It took longer than I expected. I had to wait for the owner to come pick her up.” Dean sat heavily down by Cas and set a bag beside the laptop. “But I got French toast and scrambled eggs.”  


Cas pretended to think about it for a few seconds, then he took the bag and sorted through the foods. “Forgiven.” He said, taking out a plastic fork and digging into the contents of the boxes.  


Cas could feel the nervous energy practically rolling off Dean, and he waited for the man to burst, but it didn’t happen until his breakfast had disappeared and he was left sipping at his coffee. Finally, after waiting, he lifted an eyebrow and looked over at Dean. “What’s going on? You’ve been watching me obsessively for the past five minutes.”  


“Oh, uh, I was just… uh… I just…” Dean cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. “I got… uh… well, I mean, when Sammy gets here… I was just wondering what we… if we…” He trailed off, looking miserably down at his shoes.  


“You were wondering?” Cas urged gently, reaching forward and resting a hand on Dean’s leg.  


“I was wondering what this is. Like, dude, I know you’re married and you have a kid, and I’m totally okay with that and I’d never ask you to stop, but… I really…. Really like you, man.” Dean stared hesitantly up through thick lashes at Cas, and gnawed at his lip.  


Silence, heavy and burdened, weighed down on the two men, filling their stomachs with bile. Neither of them really knew what to say, both waiting for some epiphany to slap them in the face.  


Nothing like that happened, however, and Cas knew he had to speak up.  


“Honestly, Dean, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I know that I do like you very much, too, but I don’t know. Can you give me some time? Time to figure out what this means?” Cas felt like scum for the request, especially when he saw the hurt and disappointment, even though it was covered not even a second later by a jovial mask.  


“Hey, yeah. I don’t need any promises, man. I was just wondering. I mean, Sammy’s coming in about a week and a half, and I just wanted to know what to say. Of course I don’t gotta tell him anything. That’s fine by me. Take your time, yeah?” Dean thumped Cas’ back and got to his feet. “I’m going to watch some TV. If you wanna join me you can.”  


Cas nodded numbly, the food turning sour in his mouth. He’d said the wrong thing, he could tell. Dean was already starting to shut him out. Cas could feel it in his chest, and it made him angry. How could Dean just give up so easily?? He hadn’t said he wanted them to stop! What the hell?! Cas stared at his computer and sighed. 

Just like that, the feeling had been crushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is I Wish You Were a Girl by 12 Bars. It's a brilliant song that I just heard in just the last few weeks. The song was originally going to be Do Me by Prince, but I thought that was a wee bit too on the nose. Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful encouragement! It's been a bit hard for me to write this last chapter for a few reasons, but it's out now, and I hope you all enjoyed it!


	24. Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER CHAPTER! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update this! Life got hectic all too quickly. Argle garg. Anyway... enjoy!!

Dean stared at the TV, not really watching the talk show on the screen. He kept going through everything in his head, wondering at how he could have been so STUPID?! Jesus! It was like he was fucking nineteen all over again. He felt like kicking something. If he hadn’t left… Dean thought to the condoms left lying on the table in a plastic bag.

He felt the seat next to him sink, his body tensing as Cas let out a gusting breath. The atmosphere deepened until it was the weight of black, clinging to Dean’s skin, sinking into his pores. 

“So,” Cas began, and immediately Dean reacted, not willing to let him say anything pitying. 

“It’s no big deal, man. We don’t have to mean anything. I’m good with just having some fun. You ‘n’ me, we’re… friends, Cas, and if we happen to fool around a little, together, that’s fine.”

“Dean, you mean more to me than just some man I decided to experiment with. You’re special, Dean, I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else.” Cas grabbed his shoulder and turned him about forcefully, making Dean swallow hard as he stared into his eyes. 

“Cas, look, I get it, you got a family. I wouldn’t jeopardize that.” Dean began to get into the swing of his little speech when Cas yanked him into a kiss, his mouth commanding and affirming as he pushed Dean back against the sofa.

When they broke apart, Cas just shook his head, panting a little. “No, Dean, you don’t get it. I cheated on my wife for YOU. I’m going against everything I was raised to believe, Dean. All for you. I would have never done this for anyone else. You are more to me than just a friend or a neighbour. Don’t shut me down without giving me a chance, Dean, please. I don’t know what’s going to happen, I really don’t, and I don’t know how this will work, but I want it to, so don’t give up.”

Dean could feel his carefully crafted mask slip, and he cleared his throat. “Okay.” Came the gruff answer as he shrugged and looked away. “I just don’t want to make you think you owe me anything, because you don’t.” He held his breath, scared to hear Cas’ reply and hating himself for that irrational fear.

He didn’t know why he expected this to be different. Everyone who got close to him left, and it was always, always his fault. Why should it be different with Cas? Just because he cared so much more? Just because he had so much more to lose? It made more sense for the universe to tear this away from him that much quicker. No matter how long this tryst lasted, it was doomed to failure.

“I understand, Dean, but I’m not willing to give up just yet. I don’t want to owe you anything, I just want to spend these moments with you.”

Dean nodded. “I guess we’ll just take this one day at a time, and we can cross that road when we get to it.”

Cas clapped his knee and stood up, determination in his voice as he spoke. “Hey, Dean, come on. Let’s go on a walk.”

“Uh… excuse me?” Dean wasn’t sure if he’d heard the man right, and gave him an ‘are you crazy’ look to further illustrate his disbelief.

“Yes, you heard me. Let’s walk.” Cas grabbed one of his hands and hauled him up off the sofa.

“Can I at least Change?” Dean asked peevishly, his glass green eyes narrowed in defiance, despite his feet following Cas across the room. The look, however, quickly shifted to something a little darker and a tad more excited, for moments after he had voiced his complaint, Cas looked at him. That look. That stare, the way it seemed to penetrate his soul, to strip him bare. Cas looked like he wanted to devour him whole. 

“No,” the man’s voice deepened, the timber resonating with Dean’s blood, rattling his bones. “I think, perhaps, it would be good if you styed like that until we can get you in the shower.”

Dean’s vision lured and he cleared his throat, heart throbbing. “We?” He echoed.

Cas just gave him a small smile and tugged him along, his gait full of promise. There was no way Dean was stupid enough to pass up on whatever was in store for him. Perhaps… just perhaps this whole mess wasn’t completely doomed after all.

The heat was oppressive. It seemed as though there ought to be buzzards lazily circling in the overhanging clear blue sky as tumbleweed rolled by, it was so dead, but there weren’t. The little suburb was peaceful and quiet; everyone was either at work or safely tucked away in their house with the AC blasting. 

Dean wanted nothing more than to strip his shirt off and dive into a icy pool, but he couldn’t complain. Cas was still holding his hand, despite being out on the withering front lawn in plain sight of any and all who might pass by. “So…” he began, squinting up at the azure sky for lack of anything better to do. “So… what are you doing this weekend?”

“As far as I know, I don’t have anything going on.” Came the mild reply as they began walking down the street.

“Okay. Cool.” Dean waited a little while, walking beside his friend, occasionally glancing shyly over at the brunette. “Do you… uh… do you want to drive up to Topeka with me?”

“Topeka?”

“Yeah, my little sister lives there. She’s got some of my stuff, and all she’s got is a rundown old coop, so I figured I’d come up and grab it and fix up her car for her.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister.” Cas leaned against Dean a little as they entered into a small park, half secluded by bushes and trellises filled with ivy and rich, royal purple clematis blossoms.

“She’s not really my little sister. We just… we’re tight. We met when I was fifteen. She’d roken her arm and I was in the hospital because I’d… gotten into an accident, and she wouldn’t stop talking. Kinda just started following me around, and I guess I sorta just got used to her.” Dean chuckled and shook his head. “She’s great. I’ll never forget the time we got caught shoplifting and were thrown into juvie. Man, that was… something else.” He sighed and drew a finger over one of the neatly trimmed bushes. “That’s where I met Benny for the first time. Man, we were trouble. We used to raise hell, just for the fun of it. I guess it’s never a good thing when three latchkey teenagers get together. We figured we were just like Robin Hood – stealing from the rich and giving to the poor: us. Stupid, really.”

Cas’ fingers tightened around Dean’s as he leaned toward him, guiding him to a small tree lined grove. “I can see you doing that. Despite what you want other people to think, you have a very strong moral compass. You’re a good man, Dean.”

Dean snorted, his lips twisting into a humourless smile. He wasn’t a good man. If he was a good man he’d be sitting at home, alone, with a beer. If he was a good man… the previous night would have never happened. “I don’t know about that, man. All I know is that it’s a tough world and you gotta keep the people you care about close and safe.” He squared his shoulders, staring into the shaded wood.

It was a little cooler there, the trees blocking out all but small patches of bright sunlight. The only other creatures there were a few birds and a squirrel or two, curious enough to pop out and see who was wandering the path.

Cas stopped them halfway through the secluded area and pulled him into a kiss, letting go of his hand in favour of a fist full of dark brown hair atop his head. “I wish I had known you then.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against Dean’s, his blue eyes seeming to stare straight through the man’s skull.

“You wouldn’t have liked me.”

“You would have hated me.”

They smiled and broke apart, fingers finding their way together again. 

Dean piped up again, after awhile, his thumb rubbing circles against the web of Cas’ thumb and forefinger. “This was a good idea. It’s real nice over here. I’m gonna have to tell Sam about this when he gets here. It’s the perfect spot for those stupid morning jogs he does.”

Cas arched an eyebrow, giving Dean a slightly sardonic stare. “And here I thought you were interested in morning jogs.” He murmured lightly.

“Hah!” Dean flashed a cheeky grin at him and bumped their shoulders together. “Hell no! I only ever got up to watch because it was you. Your ass looks great when you run.” He wolf whistled and then broke into laughter when Cas hit his stomach reproachfully. “Hey! Like you’ve never looked at me before! I’ve seen you!”

“Wh – wh – when?!” Cas demanded, pulling his hand from Dean’s and stopping mid step to stare at him.

“I saw you checking out my tats.” Dean was feeling quite full of himself in that moment, his chest puffed out and his lips stretched from ear to ear in the biggest shit eating grin of all time.

Cas spluttered a bit, but then he gave up. “Well… I… they’re very beautiful.” He finally said, reaching forward to trace a hand down to Dean’s hip where he knew lay the rendition of delicate pink flowers lay. “What… what do they all mean?” He asked, peering up at Dean through thick black lashes.

“Oh…” Dean gnawed on his lower lip and shrugged. “Uhm… well… why don’t I tell you in the shower?”

Cas grinned. “Deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Heroes by David Bowie. And I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. As I stated before the chapter began, life has gotten a little out of hand. I've been working 50 hour weeks, plus I had a book to edit, and I'm creating a Merlin colouring book for a friend of mine. And then, of course, there's the whole business of school. How fun.   
> I'm sorry this chapter is so short and uneventful. I promise that the next one will be chalk full of fun misadventures (plus a shower scene)! Next stop Topeka and Charlie! Oh, and - good news - the fic is over halfway done! I probably have six or seven more chapters before it's completed (maybe. Maybe more), and then it will be here in all its entirety. Thank you, everyone, for being so supportive. I love you all.


	25. The Ship Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me forever to write, just because I've been in the middle of packing. I have six days until I make the massive move for school. It's a little frightening, but that's alright. I'm sorry it did take so long, but to make up for it, the chapter is longer than normal! I hope you all enjoy the beginning of the end.

They were blind to those around them as they hurried back to Dean’s house. A few of those brave enough to bear the heat just long enough to jump into vehicles stopped and stared at the smiling, affectionate men.  


The neighbours, an ancient couple living across the street from Dean, happened to look outside as Dean, grasping Cas’ hand tightly, tugged him inside. They looked at one another and shook their heads in disappointment. Their actions had not gone unnoticed since before Amelia had even left. They were judged.  


Cas kicked the door shut behind him, kissing Dean and grinning. “You are a tease.” He laughed, trying to grab the man’s hips, only to have him slip away at the last minute. He chased him up the stairs, their feet pounding against the aged wood, shouts and laughter echoing through the otherwise empty house.  


When Cas finally did catch up to Dean, he pressed him against the tiled wall of the shower, his weathered hands pressing the man’s wrists down. They both knew Dean could probably break away if he really tried, but he didn’t. His chest strained, he stared at Cas, his sea green eyes vibrant and full of fire.  


Cas leaned in just enough to brush his lips against Dean’s, teeth gently grazing down his chin, enjoying the slight stubble and the taste of motor oil and sweat. It was so very Dean Winchester. The smell, the taste, the feel. Cas’ fingers trailed down the bare arms, admiring the way muscles strained against tanned skin. Gooseflesh erupted in the wake of those delicate, probing touches.  


Dean shuddered, but kept his arms still, his wrists pinned to the cool wall. There was a commanding force behind those touches. Without a word being said, it was communicated, it was perfect. Dean was to stay there, to give himself to the dark man before him. He did so willingly, never tearing his gaze from Cas, his nostrils flared as his body heaved with every breath as it tore from his chest.  


Those hands slowly lifted his shirt from his body, moving his arms as they pleased, giving Dean no need to do anything. He almost moved – almost – when the faucet turned on, freezing at first. The water drenched them both, dripping from their clothes and lips, turning startled stares to smiles.  


“Dick move.” Dean chuckled, shifting his hips forward to brush against Cas’.  


Cas smiled and shrugged, tracing the protruding ribs. “I just wanted to see.” He murmured, leaning in and drawing a tongue over the flaming star emblazoned above Dean’s heart.  


“Wanted to see what?” Dean gasped, tipping his chin up as he stared at the ceiling.  


“If you would listen.”  


“You haven’t even given me any commands.”  


Dean yelped in surprise, for Cas’ teeth sunk into the tattoo. He thudded his head against the wall and swallowed hard. “Okay, okay. Okay.”  


Cas smiled and licked the wound. “What does this mean?” He asked, stepping back and stripping his own shirt off, tossing it behind him, not caring that it landed, sopping wet, on the brand new flooring.  


Dean didn’t much care, either, too focused on the hypnotising sight of Cas slowly peeling his clothes off. “I got it… after I got clean. It was… to keep the demons at bay. Whenever I look in the mirror it reminds me not to let them in.”  


“You… were a junkie?” Those damned fingers stalled for a moment as they rested against Dean’s hips, so close to helping remove the heavy denim.  


It was more painful than Dean would have ever guessed. He felt small and guilty, more embarrassed and ashamed of his past than ever before as he stood before this pure man, baring himself. He nodded, looking away, trying to eclipse the swelling feeling in his gorge. “I haven’t touched anything like that in years.” He whispered, as though trying to defend what was defenceless. His nostrils flaring in defiance.  


“That…” the hands moved again as Cas stepped in closer, dressed only in a pair of black pants. “You are a very strong man.” He whispered, kissing the tattoo again, unclasping the button and pushing Dean’s jeans down his hips.  


“No I’m not. I only… I only did it because… Sammy. Sammy nearly OD’d. He got into…” Dean swallowed hard, trying to erase the hatred filling his stomach. “It was my fault. He just…”  


Suddenly Dean’s head slammed against the ceramic wall, jolting him out of the thought process. “Don’t.” Cas growled, his lips curling, nails biting into shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself, Dean Winchester. You stopped. You were strong and brave and now look at your brother. He’s a lawyer, getting married, happy. You did a good job, Dean. I’m proud of you.”  


It still surprised Dean how easily Cas broke through him, built him up, made him want to curl in a foetal position and cry. “No I didn’t. Sammy did that all on his own.” He was silenced by a pair of soft lips, and thankfully, he could no longer speak. He kissed back, hard and desperate, bodies thumping against one another in the mild shower.  


“Believe me, Dean.” Cas breathed against his lips, staring at him, running his hands up and down Dean’s chest, their noses bumping together with every breath. “Believe me. Even if you don’t believe anything else.”  


Dean nodded and twitched his fingers. “You’re…” he never finished what he was going to say, and in a way that was probably for the best; he hadn’t been quite sure what was going to come from his lips.  


Cas knelt down and kissed a scar, rubbing his cheek against it. “What does this one mean?” He asked, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of Dean’s pants and slowly pulling them down.  


Dean sucked in a deep breath as his cock was freed, only to be trapped between his thigh and Cas’ shoulder. He looked down at the delicate pink flowers trailing along his hip, curling around the bone. “That…” he began, then shook his head and shrugged, naked and torn. “My mom loved flowers. When I was little she used to take me on walks around the garden and point out the flowers and their meanings. There were these flowers, her favourite, and she told me they were called Asphodel, but she never really told me what they meant. Later, when… after the fire, I found out…” Dean shook his head again, finding the words difficult to form. “It seemed right. Her favourite flower. Her initials.”  


“What does it mean, Dean?” Cas prompted gently, his chin propped up against Dean’s hip bone as he blinked sweetly up at him through the water.  


“It means… it means my regrets follow you to the grave.”  


Cas surged up, the water spraying off of him as he pushed Dean against the wall, giving him no room to move. “It wasn’t your fault.” He said softly, repeating what everyone else had told him. 

“You know it wasn’t. You were a child, Dean. You were just trying to help a creature in need. Your family.”  


It almost felt true when the words were spoken in such a decisive tone. Dean felt as though he could believe almost anything if Cas said it. “Cas, I…” he stopped the last two words by kissing the man as hard as he could, his heart thrumming loudly against his ribcage.  


Thankfully Cas didn’t press him, instead he seemed to sense the need for direction, for blind obedience, and he dragged his palm over Dean’s left side. “What about this?” He asked, kissing Dean’s jaw. “I’ve wanted to know what it meant ever since I first saw you shirtless.” Cas spoke the words against Dean’s neck, sending vibrations straight to his skeleton. “Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim…”  


Dean giggled a little in embarrassment, but he swallowed it down and licked his lips. “It’s… it’s stupid. I mean… I read it in a book a long time ago and it sort of stuck with me. It means… uh… it means ‘be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.”  


“And has it?”  


“…yeah,” Dean answered slowly, his brows pulling together. “Yeah… I think… it’s made me who I am. Helped me meet you. I think… I think it has been useful to me.”  


Cas smiled and pulled Dean’s hands down to his hips. “Good.” He said firmly, leaning against the broad chest. “Good. I’m glad they all mean something.” His palm came to rest on the handgun inked on Dean’s right shoulder, it traced the scrolls along it, the faint skull, the black background. “This one is beautiful, too. But… I think I know what it means.” Cas leaned over and kissed it, lapping at it, dragging his tongue along the crisp lines. “I can feel the sorrow and strength.” He whispered.  


The rest of the shower wasn’t sexual like Dean had originally hoped, but it was meaningful. There was a sense of oneness, of being whole. It was more fulfilling than any lay he’d ever had. Any shag. Any fling. The way Cas began to wash him, paying close attention to each scar and mark on his body, learning the contours. It felt pure, somehow, elevated above lust. The desire was there, thrumming between the two naked bodies, electric and static and noise, filling the space, but it never overpowered what was happening. Dean felt almost like a child in Cas’ arms, trusting and loved. He felt as though this one person would never do anything to hurt him. Those hands, strong and safe, cleaned him, healed him.  


Dean hardly noticed when the water turned off. He followed the shorter man, let himself be dried, lead. He could do nothing but gaze at Cas’ face, astounded at the affection there. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Not even Lisa. It was like he could do no wrong. Like nothing could make that stare lessen. He had done nothing to deserve this – would never do anything, and it was wrong. So wrong.  


“Where are the condoms, Dean?” Cas’ voice was thick in his ear as he felt those full lips brush against him.  


In that moment, Dean’s mind blanked and he lay there, eyes rolled upwards to the opposite wall, trying to remember. Everything was so foggy, so different. The past twenty minutes had put a delicate haze over his life, and he struggled to recall the earlier events. “Downstairs. They’re downstairs… on the table, I think, but… Cas, please… don’t go?”  


He was relieved when Cas relaxed against him, pulling one of his legs up over his hip. “Yeah, okay.” After a few moments, he heard Cas sigh, and when he looked up, Cas was staring at the opposite wall. “So… Topeka? When are we leaving?” One of the brunette’s large, capable hands began to stroke Dean’s shoulder absently, travelling along the scrollwork inked on the skin.  


Dean closed his eyes, relieved they weren’t discussing anything deeper, for instance, the plea he’d made not three minutes ago. It had nearly killed him when he heard himself say the last part. He’d tried not to, but his lips formed around the words defiantly. “Well, I was thinking we could leave tonight sometime. It takes about thirty minutes to get there, so maybe after dinner?”  


“What’s Charlie like? What should I expect?” He felt warm lips on his neck, and it made him shudder with delight.  


“Charlie is great. She’s this crazy, tiny redhead who’s just about stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s good shit.” A lazy smile curled the corners of Dean’s lips and he rolled about on his back, his lids fluttering open, sea green eyes focusing on the white ceiling above him. “You’re gonna love her.”  


“You must really love her.”  


Dean flushed and shrugged. “She’s a good kid. I’ve known her for way too long.”  


“How old is she?”  


“Uh, shit… she’s gotta be about thirty-three now.” Dean’s forehead scrunched up in thought, and he nodded. “Yeah, thirty-three.”  


“She’s hardly a child, then, Dean.” Cas scooted a little farther up and sighed, propping his head on a pillow, rolling his head over to glance at the man next to him. “You know… I don’t think I’ve ever asked this, but how old are you?”  


Dean arched an eyebrow, then shrugged, flopping to his side. “Thirty-four. My birthday is in January.”  


He saw Cas’ face light up in surprise, then the man coughed and glanced away.  


Dean frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Why? Did you think I was older, or something? I ain’t that hard on myself!”  


Cas shook his head and bolted up, looking horror stricken. “No! That’s not… that’s not what I thought. I just, ah, you talk like you’re older, but you don’t look a day over 25.” A pink tongue darted out to wet lips, the blue eyes never quite meeting Dean’s gaze.  


“You’re shitting, right? Man, I look my age.” Dean sat up and lightly punched Cas’ shoulder.  


“No, you don’t. You’re… timeless. Beautiful. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” The words were spoken with such strong sincerity it made Dean cough and back up a little, unable to stare into the truthful face.  


“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He mumbled, his ears burning red, the freckles on his tanned face nearly blending in with the violence of his blush. “You already got me, Cas, you don’t need to flatter.”  


“I’m not.”  


Dean’s gaze slid to the side and he had to quickly look back down to the mattress again, for Cas was staring at him with such intensity it made his insides quiver. The focus made him uncomfortable, his ears burning, his mind unable to wrap around the sweet words, despite his heart’s accelerated cadence. He changed the subject quickly, and was grateful that Cas didn’t push it.  


They talked for another hour, occasionally diverging into soft kisses, simply happy to be together. Eventually they fell asleep, Cas’ chin tucked over the top of Dean’s head, Dean’s leg thrown possessively over his hip. It would have been a pretty sight had anyone been around to see it. They looked peaceful, their bodies slotting together in such a way that made it look as though they’d always meant to lay that way.  


***  


Cas enjoyed the sound of Dean’s soft snores, shivering slightly whenever the man’s long lashes scraped against his throat. He twitched, half waking every so often. He knew he ought to get up and get things ready, but the atmosphere was far too lulling.  


What eventually stirred him for good was the sound of Dean’s phone going off in a loud electric guitar riff. Cas had to shake him, his body half draped over the compact, muscular one of his lover’s. “Dean, your phone.” He grumbled in the man’s ear.  


Dean snorted and cracked his eyes open angrily. “’m gonna kick their ass. They’d better have a damn good reason for calling me.” He mumbled sleepily, rolling over and snatching his phone off the bed side table.  


“Hey, Sam. What’s up?” Dean glanced back at Cas, mouthing his apologies as he clumsily slid off the bed.  


Cas wasn’t that upset, to be honest. He watched Dean stride around, wondering vaguely if the man had forgotten he was naked. The writer cocked his head, dragging his eyes up and down Dean’s frame, as though seeing it for the first time. He even had freckles on his back. That was so damn adorable. Cas let out a low breath and kicked the blankets that had mysteriously appeared from nowhere during their nap. He caught the younger man staring at him with wide eyes when he finally freed himself from the soft confines, and he couldn’t help but smile. Dean made him feel handsome and desirable. No one had ever made him feel that good in his life. All of his better judgement was swiftly flying up into the atmosphere. Cas was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to quit this dangerous habit. He dragged a hand down his chest and stared as seductively as he knew how, despite suspecting that it was not the least bit sexy.  


His fears quickly abated, however, when he heard Dean nearly choke, those large eyes wide as he halted and stared at Cas.  


“N… no, uh, no. This isn’t a bad time. Just, uh,” the tanned cheeks twitched as he tried to hold back a smile. “No, just got someone over.” He finished.  


That irked Cas, which only caused to frustrate him more, because he didn’t know WHY it bothered him. It just did. He knew that it was smart not telling anyone, and that Dean was making a huge move by simply introducing him to a friend. And, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, it was his request that was stopping Dean from speaking freely. Still. He could have at least hinted at the romantic nature of his guest.  


Cas stood up and, in doing so, wiped the grin from Dean’s face. He crossed over to where the younger man was standing and slid a hand down the muscular chest. Finger pads brushed the skin ever so lightly, paying close attention to the thick patches of freckles along his skin.  


Dean stumbled over his words, and Cas pushed closer, tugging Dean so that his hip was pressed to his groin. He leaned in and dragged his lips over the bobbing throat.  


Dean choked again, his dick twitching. “No, no I’m fine.” Dean said hurriedly as his little brother’s voice sounded on the other end. Dean’s pitch was half an octave higher than ordinarily, and he ached his neck into the embrace, looking like a man starved for affection. Cas rested his cheek against the warm shoulder, kissing the scattered freckles every so often, his lashes coming to rest against his neck.  


Dean finished the conversation quickly and twisted about, gently slapping Cas’ ass. “That was mean.” He groused, nosing at the warmth.  


“I know.” Cas grinned. “I am very sorry.”  


“You don’t sound sorry, Ass.”  


They stood there, chest to chest, until Dean pushed away, his every movement filled with regret. “Okay, we should… get something to eat and go. You need anything?”  


“Hmm?” Cas reluctantly pulled away. Dean was right, they couldn’t just lie in bed all evening, no matter how attractive that option sounded. He had an obligation. This was clearly very important to his… whatever Dean was to him, and therefore it was important to him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t mourn the loss of Dean’s immediate body heat.  


“From your house before we leave? You know, since we’ll be spending the night there?”  


“Ah, yes. Well, no. I do need some clothes and a toothbrush, and I should probably… lock my door.”  


Dean nodded and clapped him on the back. “Okay! Let’s get dressed pack, and then meet back here in twenty minutes.”  


“That’s a good idea. Do you want to take my truck? It’ll have more space than your Impala. Cas noted with fondness the reluctance in Dean’s voice as he agreed. It was sweet how much he loved that old vehicle of his.  


When Cas got to his house he was struck by the silence. In just a few days this place had become a source of guilt and alienation. He no longer felt at home in this house. It was a stranger, despite the time he’d spent there. His life before Dean seemed like a distant memory, and though he was happy his daughter would be coming back in a few short weeks, he couldn’t help but selfishly wish Amelia was staying longer. He knew it was horrible and inexcusable, but so was allowing his relationship with Dean to happen. Cas knew he was a human from the lowest dregs of society, the lowest of the low for everything he’d done. This house with its pictures and memories only succeeded in making him feel worse.  


He almost didn’t go. Looking at the photographs on the walls and cabinets, it twisted in his gut and he felt sick with the weight of it. He had betrayed the woman who, until recently, had been his best friend. He’d destroyed their relationship. Ruined his daughter’s future. She would forever be branded as broken if this affair reached the light of day. He sank to the floor, practically hyperventilating. He took out his phone to text Dean and tell him he couldn’t go after all, when Dean beat him to it. His phone let out a little text alert noise and a smile broke out over his face when he read the simple text:  


**Thank you. I’m waiting by the truck.**  


Thank you? Thank you for what? He laughed helplessly, but stood up anyway. It took him all of five minutes to get his toothbrush and a change of clothes. Slightly longer to find the truck keys. And then he was outside, practically jogging to his truck.  


Dean broke into a smile when their eyes met. “Hey man, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a gh—“ but he didn’t have a chance to finish what he was saying, for Cas had grabbed him by the face and pulled him into a hard kiss. “I’m really glad you asked me to go.” He whispered fiercely, staring into the bright green eyes.  


“Me too.” One of Dean’s arms slid around his waist and they stood there for a moment, lost in their own world. They didn’t see the disapproving stares from across the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is The Ship Song by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. It is the perfect song for them, and it still manages to bring me to tears every time I hear it. Thank you all for your patience. I've been working 50 hour weeks and I've been packing my life into boxes this past month and a half, so it's been difficult to find the time to write anything. I hope you all like the chapter! I'll try to get the new one out as soon as I can.


	26. Too Late To Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I would like to apologise for not updating sooner. I've been extremely busy and I haven't been able to write as much as I'd like. I just moved and I'm in a rather strange new place going to a university that's completely different from anything I've ever done before. Anyway, I know this is short, but I AM getting back into the swing of things, and there will be more chapters fairly soon!

Cas held Dean’s hand for most of the drive. He let the man take the wheel while he was content to sit in his presence. They didn’t talk a whole lot, simply happy to be next to each other. Dean went to a drive thru and got them both cheese burgers.  


At Cas’ behest they stopped at a little rest stop and got out, walking around and enjoying the fact that they were there. The fact that the weather was perfect, there was no one else around, quiet and peaceful, they were able to sit without pretence.  


It was half eight, and the sun was hanging low in the sky as they sat on a bench staring at the cloudy pink sky. Cas’ hand found Dean’s again, and he leaned against the taller man, sighing. “I’m nervous, Dean.” He said softly, his fingers tightening.  


“Don’t be.” Dean answered, kissing his forehead. Then, after a few seconds, he laughed. “I’m a little nervous, too. I never had a boyfriend before. Never really had a girlfriend. There was…” The younger man trailed off and sighed, stroking the back of Cas’ hand. “There was Lisa. She… fuck, I really… really loved her. And then there was… well, there were two women that I liked, but it never worked out. I’m not good enough for a real relationship.”  


Cas’ eyes narrowed and he sat up, turning to his young, well, his lover. “That’s complete shit.” He snapped, pushing Dean against the bench and kissing him. “I know that what we have here isn’t…. necessarily conventional, Dean, but… that doesn’t make it any less important.” It was freeing, kissing in public, being so open with his emotions. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he knew that he was being foolish, allowing himself to be so caught up in this affair that he expressed his desire so damn openly, but he couldn’t help it. Dean made him lose himself. Dean made him forget about their surroundings and he made him feel whole. It was as though he could see himself fully for the first time in his life, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t at odds with it.  


“Come on, Dean,” Cas sighed, pulling reluctantly away from the younger man and clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s get going. Your friend will be wondering where we are.” He smiled and stood up, brushing his jeans off for no apparent reason.  


Dean nodded, his expression quiet and almost blank. Cas had come to understand that face in the short time since meeting Dean Winchester. Dean liked to pretend that he was stoic and that nothing bothered him. He liked to show a brave face, as though there was nothing that could beat him down or shake him up. That face, that expression, was the one he adopted when he was on the verge of showing a real emotion, something that he felt was unbefitting a man. Cas let it go, instead staring at the truck, his mind wandering. Yes, Dean hid himself, but it was a learned mechanism, and it was alright. After all, didn’t Cas do that, too? He knew he didn’t understand the full gamut of human emotion sometimes, and he didn’t know how to respond to certain situations, and it was alright. Everyone in the world had a learning curve, something they needed to study and work on.  


“I can never tell what you’re thinking when you get that blank look.” Dean murmured, bumping their shoulders together in a sort of awkward, shy display of emotion.  


Cas blinked and glanced at him, his head cocked. “I get a look?” He asked, stepping toward the vehicle.  


“Yeah. Suddenly you’ll just stare off into the distance like you’re contemplating some deep shit, like… fuck, I dunno. But something regular people wouldn’t even be able to conceive.”  


“Oh,” There was a momentary silence in which the dark haired man contemplated the information he’d just been given. “I never noticed.”  


“Course not.” Dean laughed, flipping the radio on and switching the channels to something better than the pop-country crap that was playing. “You’re all stuck in your head. You know what’s going on behind that skull of yours because you can hear your thoughts and you know the leaps you make. Us out here just hear the random stuff you say without knowing why you said it.”  


Cas’ brows beetled together and he nodded slowly. “Is that… bad?” He looked hesitantly at Dean, swallowing hard.  


“Nah, I don’t mind. It’s kinda funny sometimes, and it’s weird, but it’s okay.”  


The assurance was nice, and Cas let it go, leaning back into his seat.  


The rest of the drive was spent without much conversation, and that was alright. They weren’t far from Topeka, so it really didn’t take very long. Dean turned up the radio and began singing along to music Cas had never heard before. It was loud and fast and not usually something he would ever listen to on his own, but it was enjoyable. There was something endlessly satisfying about watching Dean belt out the chorus and shout the lyrics through the open window. When Cas closed his eyes he could hear the smile through Dean’s voice, and it made him smile. It was a good night.  


They arrived in front of an old apartment building, the kind that looked as though it was made during the industrial revolution: all brick and length and stoic. Cas got out of the truck, his heart pounding. Now that they were actually there, that he was confronted with the prospect of meeting someone WITH Dean.  


“Dean,” he hissed, grabbing the man’s wrist as they converged on the other side of the vehicle. “I can’t remember if I asked, but does she know? About us?” He hadn’t thought of it before, but the moment the thought struck him, it sent his heart fairly palpitating.  


Dean blushed in the gloom and he shifted guiltily.  


“You did, didn’t you?”  


Dean nodded and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, I know it was stupid, but I couldn’t help it.”  


Cas hesitated, but shook his head. “It’s… it’s okay. I’m not angry, I’m just nervous, I guess.” He squeezed Dean’s wrist to let him know that it was truly okay, then released it. “Come on, let’s go.”  


Dean lead the way, stopping at the bottom of the building and pressing a worn out buzzer on the left of the door.  


Within a minute they heard a clattering behind the door, and soon a short, flushed woman yanked it open, panting and clutching her side. “Fuck.” She gasped, grinning. “I… am so outta shape. I… just… ran down 3 flights of… fucking stairs… like a pleb…” she stepped aside, still wheezing a little. “Come on.”  


They stepped inside, and stood in the entry room while Charlie took the time to catch her breath. Dean tried to make introductions in that moment of near silence, but the woman held her hand up, shaking her head.  


Two minutes later, Charlie held her hand out and smiled, her cheeks no longer resembled the vibrant red of her hair, but were still flushed with exercise. “Hey, I’m Charlie. I’ve heard so much about you.” Her green eyes slid to where Dean was standing behind Cas, and her grin turned slightly wicked.  


Cas could hear Dean cough a little, but he ignored him. “It’s good to meet you.” He shook her hand and tried not to feel like there was some joke he was not aware of being said in the silence. “Dean isn’t one for talking about the past, but he told me about you.”  


“Awwww, you talked about me?” Charlie punched Dean’s shoulder affectionately. Then she turned to Cas, stage whispering. “Isn’t he adorable? His freckles stand out when he blushes like that.”  


“Goddammit, Charlie.” Dean half groaned, half laughed. “You’re such a dick.”  


“Better than having one!” She quipped, sticking her tongue out and letting out a mad giggle.  


“Come on, pervert.” Dean grumbled, unable to help the smile that curved his full lips. “I wanna make sure you haven’t stolen any of my stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is by Cage the Elephant.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading this! Them being all besotted isn't my strong suit, apparently, and it's difficult for me to write this part on my own. I'm used to having my co-writer with me, so it's taking me a bit longer (on top of all the schooling stuff) to get these few happy chapters out. I have been writing some of the later chapters, however, and I can tell you that this roller-coaster is going to be winding down in the next few chapters. We're almost to the finish line! Thank you all for sticking through it as long as you have.


	27. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

It was a pleasant night, Charlie broke out a six pack of beer and they discussed the plan for the next day. Cas found that Charlie was easy to get along with, if a little boisterous. She made Dean smile a lot, which made him both happy and slightly jealous, but mostly happy.  
Charlie and Dean made cookies, chatting and laughing. About a quarter of the way through, after they’d moved to the sofa, Cas got incredibly confused, for their conversation had somehow morphed into something completely foreign to him. Something about knights and taking out mountain trolls before they formed some sort of faction with some kind of wizards. When he asked what they were talking about he was given an even more confusing explanation that had something to do with something called LARPing and something about four armies and how they had to take out their enemies. After a half hour he gave up trying to understand them and began reading one of Dean’s books.  


\---  


“What’re you going to do, Dean?” Charlie watched the dark haired man as he slept, slumped again Dean’s shoulder.  


“What do you mean?” Dean looked up at his friend, his hands clasped on his lap. He could feel every breath Cas took, could feel the slight movements, the minute twitches. It felt right.  


“I mean that this looks serious. I didn’t think that you two would be together.” Charlie got to her feet with a grunt and rubbed her thighs, grimacing.  


“I thought you were all for it. You told me to go for him.” Dean protested darkly, knowing deep down that she was right.  


“Well, yeah, but… I just thought it would be a one and done sort of thing. Not that I’m against you two. I think you’re cute together, but, fuck, D-Man, do you know if this is going to last? Last thing I wanna see is you broken up. Again.”  


“That’s not gonna happen this time. I know we’re going to break up and I’m fine with that. It’s just some fun right now.”  


“Okay, if you say so.”  


“Hey, let’s go play Mario.” Dean said suddenly, easing out from under Cas and gently lying him down on the sofa so that he didn’t wake.  


\---  


Cas woke up early the next morning with a tingling sensation running up his arm. He cracked an eye open, grunting and trying to move the hand, only to find it pinned to the sofa cushion. When he went to discover the obstruction he found Dean asleep, propped up against the couch, his head resting against Cas’ forearm. The dark haired man smiled, reaching forward to smooth Dean’s hair back. He lay there for a few seconds longer, but the pressure soon became overwhelming. He slowly began to wiggle the problematic appendage, one hand carefully holding Dean’s head up just enough to slip away.  


His bladder decided it wanted to remind him how long he’d been asleep and he quickly rose to his feet, searching for the loo.  


Charlie’s flat was small, only two rooms branching off from the main area. The first one he tried happened to be the bathroom and he quickly locked it behind him, happy to not have accidentally opened the door to the young woman’s bedroom.  


When he came out he found Charlie sitting in an oversized shirt and loose boxers with pink cars splattered all over them.  


“Hey dude,” she chirped, waving at him and then pointing to the mug next to her elbow on the table. “You want some coffee? Dean’s still passed out on the floor. Personally I think he gave up on life because I beat him sixteen times in Soul Calibur last night.”  


Cas nodded so as to seem like he knew what she was talking about, his hands slipping easily into the pockets of his jeans. “So, how did you meet Dean?” he asked after a little while, leaning against the cool window. “He said you met in a hospital. You’d broken your arm and he’d fallen down the stairs or something. He didn’t go into detail.”  


Charlie snorted and rolled her eyes, cupping the steaming mug of tea in front her. “Oh wow, what a shocker.” She murmured, her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she hunched forward, obscuring her face from Cas’ sight. “What has Dean told you about his dad?”  


“Enough to know he’s not a good person.” Cas murmured, not bothering to be diplomatic about him. “I get the feeling he’s not someone I’d like to meet.”  


“Oh, he seems like a really nice guy if you just meet him. He’s charming and not bad looking, and he knows how to be as smooth as silk, but… there’s this undercurrent to him, something that warns you he’s not a nice guy.” Charlie pushed her hair behind an ear and looked up, the usual lightness gone from her attitude, her lips set in a grim line. “He knows how to fool people, but he didn’t fool me. When I met Dean… when I met Dean I’d broken my arm running away from a couple of bullies. I remember I was sitting in the hospital bed, angry and tired and in pain, then I heard Dean on the other side of the curtain. Well, no, I heard Bobby…” Charlie licked her lips and cleared her lips, the topic clearly not one she enjoyed. “You know… it’s just… Bobby was pissed. He kept telling Dean he needed to say something. He kept saying ‘boy, don’t you treat me like I’m stupid. I know you didn’t fall down no stairs.’ But Dean wouldn’t say anything. You know Dean, he’s all manly and tough, and I don’t think he wanted Bobby to know.”  


“What happened?” Cas almost didn’t want to know, his throat was tight, and he suddenly regretted asking Charlie. He wanted to cover his ears and run, but Dean would never tell him on his own, and it was too late. It had to be spoken.  


“We were kids. I was fourteen and he had just turned sixteen days before. I don’t know why he told me, I really don’t, but I think I was the only one he could talk to, and he needed to talk.” Charlie got up and crossed over to where Cas was half standing half leaning against the window and settled next to him. “Dean had been fooling around with other boys. He didn’t know who the hell he was or what he was or anything, and it was all just experimenting at that point. One day, just after his birthday, he had one of the kids he’d actually liked from school come over. At that point they were living in South Dakota, they had been for about a month, and they were making solid connections. Anyway, the kid came over, and it got late. John wasn’t supposed to be back for a while, so Dean let him stay over. Sammy fell asleep, and they started making out, I guess. They shut themselves inside a closet, so they didn’t hear the front door open.”  


A low humming noise sounded in Cas’ ears, and he stared hard at the floor, his heart pumping faster and faster as the humming noise grew louder and louder. It was too much. It was all too much. “So…” he began, finding it difficult to speak.  


“So my dad found out and beat the shit out of me. Andy got away before he could turn on him, and I got sent to the hospital. My old man said he didn’t raise me to be a fucking faggot.” Dean’s voice was hard, his jaw set, his green eyes flashing. “You done gossiping now so we can get to work?”  


“Dean…” Cas began, but Dean turned away, rigid and angry.  


“Shit.” Charlie ran a hand through her hair and looked guiltily after him. “I should have just kept my mouth shut.”  


“I’m sorry.”  


“No, it’s okay. He should have told you. It’s a pretty big fucking deal, I mean… shortly after that was when he was sent to juvie, and then after that Bobby kinda took them in for a little while.” Charlie pushed away from the window sill and trailed after Dean, a resigned expression on her elfin face.  


Cas stayed put for a little longer, contemplating what he’d heard. He couldn’t believe something so tragic had happened to Dean, but then again… hadn’t the same thing happened to so many others? It could have happened to him if he had been brave enough to admit what he was to himself. He shook his head. It was a harsh reality.  


There was a frosty note in the air, Dean barely said a word to the two as he hauled the few boxes that were packed outside. Cas felt contrite for about an hour before he grew irritated with the, in his opinion, childish behaviour. Just as Dean finished loading the last box into the back of Cas’ pickup, the shorter man yanked him aside. He ignored Dean’s objections as he tugged him around the corner of the flat. He didn’t let go until they were completely behind the building.  


“What the hell, man?” Dean demanded, yanking his arm from Cas’ grasp, gaping and growling. He reminded Cas of a dog just then, a feral dog, absolutely terrified but pretending not to be. Growling and posturing.  


“I’m sorry.” Cas said stiffly, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you to tell me, but I just wanted to know how you two met. You didn’t tell me, and I get the feeling I wouldn’t have heard it from you for another three or four years.”  


“So? You shoulda just waited.”  


“Yes, I agree. I’m sorry.”  


Dean looked at him suspiciously, as though trying to ascertain whether or not Cas was joking, and when it was clear that there was no sarcasm to be seen, the air seemed to spill out of him. His shoulders sagged and he rubbed his forehead. “No, it’s okay. I should have told you. It’s not like it’s even that big of a deal.”  


“It is a big deal.” Cas stepped forward and grasped Dean’s elbow, squeezing it comfortingly. “You shouldn’t say it wasn’t just because it happened to you.”  


“It’s hard for me, Cas. You know that.” Dean leaned his head against the older man’s shoulder and mumbled something Cas couldn’t quite make out, but he got the gist of it.  


“It’s called being human, I believe.” He said in what he hoped what was a consoling voice. Patting Dean’s shoulder, he kissed the soft brown hair and gave him a quick squeeze. “Let’s get going. Your friend will be looking for us any minute now.”  


He was right, for they ran into the short woman as they turned the corner.  


“Hey!” Charlie cried, clapping her hand to her heart. “For a second I’d begun to wonder if you’d been sucked into some sort of alternate dimension and were engaged in a battle to the death with The Hound.”  


Cas felt one of Dean’s hands slide across his lower back and slip into a back pocket as his weight shifted toward the shorter man. Cas looked down at the ground, trying not to turn into a blushing fool.  


Dean replied, but Cas wasn’t really paying attention. He was focused on the warmth on his bum and the sex that practically rolled off Dean at any and every given moment. It was intoxicating this close, sending shivers through his body. They were out in the open! Dean was being brash and cocky and… hell, if Cas wasn’t turned on. He desperately wished that Charlie wasn’t there in that moment because he wanted to push Dean up against the nearest hard surface and kiss him until they could no longer breathe.  


It was like a piece of Cas left when they pulled apart, and he felt a slight chill despite the hot late summer morning.  


“How long is she going to be at your place?” Cas asked as soon as the truck doors were closed, his fingers fumbling with the seatbelt.  


“Probably just today. She’s gotta work tomorrow night, so I can’t imagine she’ll be with us for too long. Why?” Dean gently pushed Cas’ hands out of the way so he could buckle the older man in.  


The poor man felt his body temperature rise a good six degrees and he looked away, clearing his throat. “It’s difficult to keep from kissing you.” He whispered after a few seconds of silence.  


He heard Dean chuckle and then, before he knew what was happening, a strong hand was tugging his head around and warm lips were pressed against his. They kissed deeply, their fingers twisting about one another, stroking and clenching.  


Dean’s teeth found Cas’ earlobe and he shuddered as the hot breath hit his ear. “Maybe I’ll have to make it up for you in the shower… I’ll bet I can make you cum in thirty seconds.”  


Cas choked and swiftly turned to look out the window, his chest heaving. He nodded stiffly, nails digging into the back of his hands in an effort not to reach for Dean. “You can certainly try.” He deadpanned, nostrils flaring.  


A soft laughter filled the car as they pulled out of the parking bay and drove off, Charlie following closely behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. The sex is so close I can taste it! I am both nervous and excited to write it, especially since I haven't written a sex scene by myself in five years.  
> The song is Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow sung by Amy Winehouse.


	28. Holding Your Hand

After everything was unloaded and unpacked back at Dean’s place, the three stopped for lunch. Dean made some pizzas and they sat outside in the backyard chatting.  
  
“So Sam’s really going to get married here?” Charlie asked, wrinkling her nose. “It’s kinda small, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah, but he’s only going to have 40 people or so. It won’t be that bad. And I guess they’re hiring some wedding planner to figure everything out logistics wise.” Dean leaned back in the lawn chair and sighed. “It’ll be fun.”  
  
Cas excused himself, saying he had work to do and some important emails to reply to. After he left Dean gave Charlie a tour, she commented on the house, the colours, the rooms. Made snarky comments about Dean settling down and getting old, to which they laughed.  
  
When the two friends finally settled down in Dean’s living room they sat in silence for quite a while. Charlie’s hand found Dean’s and she leaned back against the sofa, her eyes closed.  
  
“I approve.” She sighed and kicked her legs out in front of her, propping them up on the coffee table that had appeared there within the last few weeks.  
  
“Approve of what?” Dean jostled the younger woman, never taking his eyes from the newly painted ceiling.  
  
“Of you and the pretty little Angel Boy out there.”  
  
“I thought you already did. You were the one who told me to fuck him.”  
  
“Yeah, well, like I said before, I didn’t think it’d be a long term thing for you, but… you two are good together. Good for each other. You’re smiling more. I bless this union.” Charlie’s hand tightened over Dean’s before it pulled away and settled on her thigh.  
  
“It’s not a union. He’s married and he’s not going to divorce her.” It came out more of a growl than Dean initially wanted, but he couldn’t take it back, so he owned it, his jaw jutting out defiantly.  
  
“Do you want him to?”  
  
“No!” There was a pause, then, more guiltily, the admission. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want him to mess anything up for his kid.” Dean rubbed his face and groaned, slowly sinking towards the opposite end of the sofa, curling in on himself in slow motion. “I only know he doesn’t want to make it official or say anything, so I’m basically… a skank.” Dean felt Charlie’s foot hit his calf and he heard her snort. He cracked open one eye, peering at her through a gap between his fingers, his green eye narrowing suspiciously. “What?”  
  
Charlie rolled her eyes and flipped around so that she was facing him, her legs coming up and propping themselves on his hip. “I mean, it’s never bothered you before. You’ve slept around more than… and, no, I’m not slut-shaming you or anything, I’m just saying, what’s different about him and the other married men and women you’ve banged?”  
  
“Hey!” Dean shot up and shoved at her feet, actually affronted by the allegation. “I didn’t purposefully sleep with married people! And anyway… Cas ‘n’ me haven’t…” The older Winchester brother felt his face heat and he shot to his feet, glowering. “Fuck you anyway. You don’t know jack shit about me and him.”  
  
“I’m just saying that you’d better get it figured out before Sam gets here. Otherwise it’s gonna get real complicated real fast.” Charlie clapped her thighs and straightened up, her hair bouncing as she tossed her head back.  
  
Dean’s stomach flipped and he glared at her, angry and confused, the cold grip of fear beginning to take over. “You… go make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna go see if Cas is coming over for dinner.” He hurried out of the room, feeling sick.  
  
Cas was sitting in his office scrolling through his emails when Dean nudged the door open with a foot. Dean had to pause to just watch the shorter man as he stared in concentration at his screen, his bright eyes narrowed as he scanned through the documents. He was sitting with his back hunched, brows furrowed and lips pursed, his foot tapping on the hardwood flooring every three seconds.  
  
“Find anything good?” Dean asked, stepping up behind him and slipping his hands around the man’s shoulders, pulling his head sideways against his stomach. There was a little chuckle and Dean felt Cas’ hand lift to rest against his butt. He couldn’t help but smile, his anxiety calming somewhat.  
  
“Not really.” Cas admitted, pulling Dean closer and looking up at him, his cerulean eyes so clear and affectionate it nearly broke Dean’s heart. “I was just finishing up here. Is everything alright? You look… constipated.”  
  
Dean spluttered an objection, but that was lost quite quickly when Cas kissed his stomach through the black cotton tshirt. “I’m just worried.” He admitted, leaning in a little more. “I’m worried about Sam and Jess. I’m worried about us. I don’t know what to do. I fucking hate not knowing what to do.”  
  
He felt a hot gush of breath and shuddered, allowing Cas to pull him down until he was nearly sitting on the man’s lap.  
  
“I know.” Cas’ head thudded against his shoulder and strong hands roamed Dean’s back, mapping the plains there. “That’s what I was thinking about, actually. I think… when Amelia gets back I’m going to tell her about us.” He looked up at Dean and brushed a thumb over the man’s cheek. “I don’t want to stop this, and, yes, Amelia is my friend, but I don’t love her. I love you.”  
  
It was as though there was a static noise in Dean’s ears. He gaped, unable to fully process what he’d just heard. It had been intimated, but never spoken. It took several breaths and blinks to fully accept the words that Cas had uttered, but when he did, Dean pushed the man back into his seat and kissed him roughly. Unable to keep his hands off the shorter man, Dean dragged his fingers through the near black hair, growling a little as his teeth found purchase in Cas’ lower lip.  
  
Dean found it difficult to break away from Cas, but when the phone in his back pocket began to buzz, he knew they had to stop. Charlie was probably wondering where they had gotten, and it was getting later in the afternoon. Dinner would have to be started. He sighed as he slowly untangled himself from Cas’ arms, pulling his phone out.  
  
“Who is it?” Cas kissed his neck softly and got to his feet with a yawn.  
  
“Hmmm? Oh, it’s Charlie. Hey, Cas?”  
  
Cas hummed in answer, shutting the desktop down, his fingers clicking deftly at the mouse.  
  
“I was thinking maybe we shouldn’t tell Sam about us until after Amelia gets back. I know I bitched about not saying anything, but I think it might be better.” Dean watched Cas’ back intently for any sign of displeasure or irritation, but nothing changed. Cas turned around with a smile and simply nodded at him.  
  
“I think that’s a good idea.” The affirmation coupled with the look of approval and pride in those deep blue orbs made Dean’s toes curl and he turned about quickly, not wanting to do anything embarrassing.  
  
“Great.” He cleared his throat and nodded stiffly. “Great. Anyway, uh, Charlie is, uh, Charlie’s wondering where the hell we got to, so I’m gonna head over there.   
You, uh, you can stop by whenever you want.” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled out of the room, steadfastly not looking back. He wasn’t followed, which was a relief and a bit of a disappointment. Dean wasn’t sure what he would do if he stayed in Cas’ company for much longer, Charlie or no Charlie. It was difficult to have self-control around that man.  
  
Charlie was sitting in the living room drinking tea, her feet kicked up on the coffee table, the TV blaring. If she noticed the faint darkening of cheeks or the slightly distracted attitude, she said nothing, which Dean was grateful for. She wasn’t usually known for her tact in situations like these – though, to be fair, Dean had never been IN a situation like this one before.  
  
Dean kept looking at his watch during dinner, only half paying attention to Charlie as she rambled on about how she’d have to take some time off when Sam came back for a visit.  
  
“Jess is great,” he heard her say, and he nodded, the pasta tasting somewhat wooden in his mouth. He didn’t know what Cas was planning, he didn’t know if he was coming over at all that night, but he hoped… he really fucking hoped he would.  
  
“So, did I scare him away?”  
  
That caught Dean’s attention. He looked up from his plate, startled by the question, to find Charlie watching him with hawk-like intensity. “Uh, what?” He cleared his throat and shook his head, forcing a smile.  
  
“Your not boyfriend, did I scare him away?” She cocked her head to one side.  
  
“Hell no, Charlie. He really likes you.” Dean’s fingers twitched over the screen over the screen of his phone, withstanding the compulsion to tap it awake yet again, even though he knew Cas hadn’t texted him.  
  
“Are you sure? Because you keep checking your phone, and… I dunno, looking out the window toward his house.” Charlie reached out and patted his hand, her eyebrows lifting. “You’re beginning to look more and more like a kicked puppy.”  
  
Dean cleared his throat again and stuffed his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, more than a little shame faced. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “No, uh, no, he just… he’s got some work. He said he might stop by after. I think he wants us to be able to hang out together alone. You know.” Dean shifted about in his seat, resisting the urge to check his phone. It burned a hole in his pocket, but he refused to pull it out, maintaining what he hoped was a nonchalant look.  
  
They fell into a comfortable silence, both concentrating on the dinner in front of them. A clock on the wall behind Dean clicked away the minutes, reminding him of Cas’ absence with every second that passed. Fifteen minutes in he wanted to rip it off the wall and smash it into little bits. He didn’t know why he got it in the first place.  
  
“I’ll probably be heading out fairly early tomorrow morning. I gotta work tomorrow night, so, you know, gotta get home and get that shower in. Make sure I look halfway presentable.” Charlie yawned, stretching and running a hand through her short fiery red hair.  
  
“That’s cool, I gotta start getting more shit done around here, anyway. Been kinda lax lately… I gotta at least get the guest bedroom and the upstairs sorted before next week. At least the bathroom ain’t so bad.”  
  
“You wanna get some shit done tonight? It’s only 8. The sun won’t set for another two hours. Come on! I’m not much for the whole home repair thing, but I’ll deliver a cuttingly hilarious commentary to the whole process.” Charlie waggled her eyebrows at Dean, her lips spreading into a shit eating grin.  
  
“Oh, yeah, sure. You watch while I do all the hard work, just like always.”  
  
“Hey! I could do some light activities like, uh, painting or whatever.”  
  
Dean held a hand out, his green eyes twinkling. “It’s a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... there was another long gap between chapters, and for that I apologise! I just want all of you lovely people to know that I'm not abandoning any of you! I still am dedicated to this stupid story, so count on it getting finished.  
> The song is Holding Your Hand by Yung Bae ft Atlas. It's such a perfect song for Dean and Cas.


End file.
